#94: Go to a nightclub and actually dance

The ‘most avoided’ challenges are coming thick and fast this week! And once again, thank Heavens for mates who can be persuaded into joining such enterprises!

I have no weekends left, so the offer I put out to my local acquaintance was the opportunity to go clubbing, in Cirencester, on a school night. Apparently this mid week event is ‘popular with students of the agricultural college’. I checked whether student status was compulsory, and was assured that EVERYONE is welcome to ReVA on a Wednesday. Nor would we need student cards to take advantage of the extraordinarily well-priced drinks.

My suggestion met with a mix of enthusiasm and incredulity, but in the end, a small but committed party of 3 left the village at 9.55pm last night, to the astonishment of our friends and other halves, who were all going to bed. We popped into the pub for a couple of sharpeners, then it was on to the main event.

One of my friends was appalled to be recognised as soon as we walked in! We did not imagine we knew anyone at all in the 18-21 bracket these days, and certainly she almost fell over in astonishment to see him in that setting! She and her friends were all drinking an unpleasantly sweet looking concoction out of a jamjar, filled half full with gummi bears. How queer. We resisted that temptation and ordered a round of jager bombs instead. For £10 we were given 5. We realised we had not brought enough people. No matter. We got through them!

Each round cost £10 and consisted of 5 drinks to share between the 3 of us. A quick round each, and it was time to hit the dance floor. And imagine, the cage was vacant! We got involved. We were on fire!

For the first hour or so, we did not recognise any of the music. So we amused ourselves surveying the youth. We played a game of ‘If you really had to, who would you ‘do’?’ The more we considered it, the more preposterous the prospect seemed. Fresh faces abounded. No one looked a day over 20. There were really no contenders other than the security staff! (This was unlikely to be a problem, as we were not drawing any interest whatsoever from the younger clientele! Oh, and of course we are all happily married anyway.)

Around midnight, they played Teenage Dirtbag. And the 3 of us went wild! We had a whole dance floor to ourselves at this point, and we made most excellent use of it. We flung ourselves the full length of the space available, strutting, leaping, air guitar-ing, throwing out shapes. God we looked good. From then on, the 90s classics came thick and fast, and we paused only to see off another round of jager bombs.

I can offer some very poor imagery of our exploits:
20140508_005524 (Large)

me on dancefloor
I had taken the precaution of booking a cab for 1am, which we were all thankful for next morning. But we left wondering why on earth we spend our time going to sedate dinner parties these days. Why stop leaping around a dark room to some banging tunes?? Club night might become a regular event!

Certainly we were looking good….
me and adam in cage

#89: And then bury all your clothes

bury all my clothes (2)
Yes I know, it is entirely pointless, ridiculous, etc.

But it does amuse me slightly, to think of the builders coming to knock down our sorry little bungalow in a few weeks’ time; then digging the foundations of the 2 swank pads that are going to replace it, only to unearth a random selection of my pants, not very far from the surface.

Am I abnormal?

#88: Fly a jumbo jet

Well not exactly a jumbo jet, but I have been flying one of these bad boys!
Check it out!
aircraft

We have been viewing Ashton Keynes and the surrounding area from the air, and while I cannot claim to have been in any way instrumental in surviving the experience, I did get to fiddle with the control stick rather a lot (oo-er). And I must say it was extremely responsive!

Here is Ashton Keynes from above:
AK from the air
And here is me, looking more than slightly anxious at wobbling about 1800 feet in the air or thereabouts (if I understood the controls correctly, which is enormously unlikely).
anxious pilot

Thank you very much Auntie Tina for my early birthday present! Very splendid.

#87: Stick a deckchair up your nose

I have a number of plates spinning at the moment, which makes for some eclectic juggling of priorities. Today the financial advisor called, to outline our various mortgaging possibilities. I found myself indisposed to take his call, as I was in the garage attempting to take a selfie with a child’s camping chair stuck up one nostril. Do other people have moments like this?
deckchair
chair, nose
Can anyone guess what is coming next?

#83: Pitch an article for publication AND #84: Charge an eye watering fee for some work

I haven’t exactly done this solely by myself, but through a cunning partnership with a freelance journalist I seem to be contracted to Chat magazine to make a feature/nob of myself in a couple of months time.

I have made myself available for all manner of embarrassing photography, not least the water skiing endeavour, and for my troubles I am to be paid the princely sum of £100. (Eye watering? Not exactly! But since I am doing no other work at the moment I am not sure what else I can charge for! Suggestions welcome! And I did have to proactively ask for a fee, which I find near impossible to do, so it kind of ticks the box about raising the subject of cold hard cash.)

It doesn’t entirely replace a full time salary, and I doubt it will have huge impact on our mortgaging capability, but it is a beginning!

Onwards and upwards!

#82: Stay in bed for an entire day

I am immensely grateful to my quite brilliant husband for facilitating this. He has taken over my responsibilities admirably (indeed better than me, which is always disconcerting), and looked after me in my bed; all while executing a normal day’s work. While working from home, he has managed to supervise breakfast, ready the children, take them to school, pick them up again, and ferry our own plus 2 more 5 year olds to a soft play party and home again. Plus furnish me with food and water while I fester in my pit all day. Now if I had some sort of debilitating illness then it would kind of be expected… But to do all that just so that I can write a semi-amusing paragraph for my blog? Most people would have probably given me a brisk ‘f*** off’. Dave just shakes his head at the ridiculousness of his existence, and gets on with it.

Actually it was the children who brought me the breakfast. They were quite excited about it. In they trooped, armed variously with a cup of tea, a bowl of cereal and a cup of milk to pour on it. In return I have promised that on their 10th birthdays I will bring them their breakfast in bed. That seems far enough away that they may have mastered eating a breakfast without coating themselves and everything in a 2 metre radius with it.

I had a fairly productive morning doing some online chores, practicing the guitar, and reading a book. All very nice!

By lunch time though I was getting a bit stiff. And smelly. It had begun being gloriously decadent and relaxing and lazy. By 3pm it had become a little bit sweaty and unpleasant. I literally only got up to go to the toilet. I was unwashed, and unbrushed. Disgusting.

By 6pm I thought I could call the day done. I really couldn’t justify loafing idly any longer, once the children came home from their party. Also I was hungry, and I didn’t think calling for dinner in bed would go down at all well!

It is probably quite restorative, to do literally nothing for a day. But I had better not make a habit of it.