Because I can't think of any other reason why I'm feeling quite so cheerful today!
It's been a pretty shite week what the burns, electric shock and the puking and then earlier when I went to step over the damned dog (who ALWAYS lies in doorways) he got up when I had one leg cocked (usually his prerogative!) and we did this kind of canine rodeo for a few seconds while I tried to regain my balance and he tried to work out why the fuck I was riding him.
It ended badly of course.
I crashed into the merchants chest (that's a 15 drawer chest of drawers btw ;) right on the bloody corner. I am going to have such a HUGE bruise on my thigh tomorrow and Gus slunk away like only a Border Collie can sending me 'don't you be a ridin' me again lady' looks over his shoulder and took refuge under the coffee table.
Anyhow, that's by the by. I don't care WHAT the children snuck into my coffee, I LIKE IT (give me more!)!
So, before the burning, puking, electrocuting stuff happened I had a blog post in the making based on ..... feel there should be a drum roll here .....
A NIGHT OUT!
Nothing earth shattering. Nothing grand. Nothing that required dressing up for.
I went to see a local band that my friends husband plays bass in.
Ahh, but that's where it all becomes a little surreal.
If you haven't experienced a proper English country pub then I insist you pack up your bags and come on over here.
You can even stay with me if you don't mind my shitty kitchen, my crappy bathroom and the bastard cat.
I've got village dress code down pretty well I like to think and so off I went in my jeans, t-shirt, Uggs and suede jacket.
BUT,very importantly, I'd forgotten that this was Bishop Lydeard and Bishops Lydeard is only a stones throw from Bridgwater (and no, I haven't missed out an e in that name, that's how they spell it which gives you just a little insight).
Bridgwater used to be best known for the British Cellophane factory. Actually, it was best known for the SMELL of the British cellophane factory and all the mind changing chemicals which surely must have been wafted from the great chimneys to produce Bridgwaatter folk.
No really. They are frankly, fucking odd!
Anyway, I soon realised I'd got the dress code completely wrong.
I should have been wearing skin tight black satin trousers, a pair of 6" stilettos and an orange asymmetrical off one shoulder ruffled polyester blouse with tits down to my belt buckle and hair the shape and consistency of a walnut whip (complete with walnut).
(incidentally, never say that whilst bending over in the hearing of a someone from Bridgwater. They are very literal, monosyllabic folk)
Typical English pubs are split into two bars.
The lounge bar for the 'posh' people and the public bar for the great unwashed.
Sometimes the bars are completely separate and sometimes (as in this case) there is just a dividing wall with one bar running through both (handy if you feel like throwing dry roasted peanuts at the 'posh' folk).
They also tend to be very small with low ceilings and lots of horse brasses.
We were soon joined but a local rugby team inexplicably dressed in CSI costume and still sporting their mowvember facial hair.
They were also extremely drunk (in a pretty good although unintelligible way) and boogied along enthusiastically to the band.
A couple of Hooray Henry's wandered in by mistake.
God, haven't seen one of THOSE since the 80's!!
To say they were shit scared would be an understatement but the CSI rugger boys soon had their exit cut off and so they stood there sweating their nuts off in their flat caps, tweed jackets and corduroy high waisted trousers sipping on lager shandies with Baileys chasers in the corner of the bar where Art (a VERY local local) was fast asleep bolt upright on a bar stool despite the fact that the whole place was rocking because, did I mention ...
THE BAND WERE FUCKING A!!!.
They played Punk, 70's Rock, 90's Rock, Indie Rock - We had - Green Day, Iggy Pop, Jefferson Starship, White Stripe, The Stranglers, Razorlight, Madness, Eminem, Martha and the Muffins, Ian Dury, Black Sabbath, Led Zepplin ....
Then, right in the middle of it all in walked one of my favourite, favourite people that I used to work with and hadn't seen for a couple of years - Mr Andy L (Maggiemoui - he sends BIG love:).
But that's not all ....
Have you ever wondered what happened to your first real boyfriend?
Can't say I have really.
C L-B was a bit of a knob tbh.
But he was VERY good looking (I was only 16 and such things mattered).
He also competed in triathlons and was incredible fit.
He made the mistake once of suggesting we cycle to his house in the next town (9 fecking MILES away!!) Something he did twice a day for work and to keep fit.
Apparently this used to take him approximately 25 minutes.
An hour later we were just under half way there when (thank fuck) I saw the very welcoming sight of Sheppys the local cider farm (I seriously thought I was going to DIE).
Yes we did eventually make it all the way but I insisted he drove me home again!
Anyway. Andy L's friend couldn't take his eyes off me. Pretty flattering really, he was a good looking bloke.
Yep, you've guessed it. It was C L-B!
I'd never have recognised him. Last time I saw him he was 19 or 20, he was now mid 40's (I would say late 40's but that makes ME feel old;).
I guess I can't have changed as much as him though as he recognised me instantly.
It took a while for it to sink in bearing in mind the volume of the band and everything and when the penny dropped and I yelled 'OMFG - C L-B, I still have one of your socks with your name tape sewed in it' at the top of my voice it was of course at the precise moment the band came to the end of their set and a deathly hush had settled over the entire pub.
So, where has he ended up?
Effing loaded of course!
He's a senior director for a multi-national company and his 'expertise lies in the Specialist Solutions requirements for Global distribution businesses' apparently (of COURSE I checked him out on Linkedin ;) - big house in exclusive little village - travels the world on business.
He's still a knob though ....
Having insisted that he had many, many contacts who would be only to happy to offer me work and utilise my unique skills set I handed over my phone number (doh, Sarah!)
A few very effusive texts the next day along the lines of OMG - great to see you - lets do coffee yada, yada, yada ...
My suggestion that we should meet in town for said coffee was met by - 'perhaps it would be better to meet out of town as tongues might wag'
Surely two old friends meeting for coffee and a chat about business wouldn't be all THAT gossip worth??? ...
D'you know, I think it may well have brought back fond memories for him when, for the second time, many, many years after the first, I told him to 'go f*ck himself' :)