'they're all very unpleasant people'
For the second time in my life I have witnessed a grown man playing air-guitar in public.
The first occasion occurred in 1995 during a Brian May concert in the Bristol Colston Hall, when my then thirty-six-year-old uncle spent most of the set standing up (it was a fully-seated venue), right hand picking distinctly arhythmical rhythms upon an ( Read more... )
As for the hen events - please, help! After the indignity of having to go round Edinburgh in a hideous outfit and attend clubs of dubious trendiness I am now forced to attend a sport and spa weekend in a Centre Parcs....near Warminster. Have I, in fact, done something terribly evil in a past life and am now paying for it ? I should add that in some ways I am truely blessed since the woman in question actually spent 3 years teaching in...St Lucia so I could have had to go out there too. In stead the reception is to be held in Bristol Zoo, where I spent the most shameful 3.5 days of my life, at the age of 16.... I realised I was never going to be a waitress. Without such an ability how was I ever going to earn a living as an archaeologist, without such a talent to fall back on in the hard times ? I look back and try to reassure myself that had I been giving more than 5 mins training I would have made a good waitress, but it is toolate I'm scarred and can never work in the public realm. Hence the proclavity for dirt.
For now I must return to assembling wedding favours, I have no idea how I sign myself up for such things. I tend to find that an arm, strangley belonging to me, is raised going "I'll do it". Leaving the rest of me with the fall out, (sigh). I have to contend with organza sheets, gold wrapped chocolate hearts, ting minatures must be sought, jokes must be printed and gold edged and there is 11m of ribbon to use.... at this point I wish I had an artistic bone in my body, I even dismally failed Home Ecconomics at GCSE.
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What sort of costumes? Last night, walking down the Cowgate after a rehearsal, we were forced to pause for several minutes to allow for the passage of an enormous crocodile of hens, at least twenty, all sporting sparkly ears, black skin-tight lycra outfits and tails - the bride, easily identifiable by her baggage of an improbably huge, ahem, organ, looked none-too impressed by any of it.
At some stage we can share bad waitressing tales - I also endured several months in an immediately food-besplattered apron, cartwheeling sandwiches across the floor and into customers' laps. We got revenge on the evil manageress by cutting all the cakes into much larger pieces than they were supposed to be sold in.
Organza sheets? o dear. Hope all well otherwise.
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