So I’ve let my eyes do a race scan through all the google reader items I’ve let lapse, so I have something finished before I hit the sack.
I think I may have swore once never to go to a nightclub, due to my expected passionate dislike of dancing, loud music and drunken fools (allow me some literary license), if you like that kind of thing you do, I don’t. But I blew it the other night at my sister-in-law’s hen’s night. Apart from the short adjorn to Club Retro (yes that’s right, an 80’s-90’s music nightclub) – which really wasn’t that bad because it is quite amusing watching drunk people (Can I admit that?) and it is fun watching people generally and making social observations/generalisations etc. I had a fantastic time. We hit the city in pink tshirts that bore a shocking pun with a less than conservative (yet convenient and relevant) message and made Neet do all kinds of risque dares. Her friends were fun. The food at Manchester Lane was lovely. The night was fine.
It does me good to throw away the comfort towel now and then.
Anita and Stu get married in two weeks. And this my friends is the only way my family is growing at the moment. If you hear otherwise, Paul has just bribed another child with a kitkat to spread rumours that I am pregnant. I am not.
Be First to Comment