Despite my utter inability to take anything seriously, I signed up to help arrange the dance, mainly because I fucking could and to show all the lazy fucking underachievers of the enclave what one can do if one only puts one's mind to it, like the miserable bitch who recoiled when asked if she'd like to sign up for the PTA and gasped she wouldn't possibly have time, she had two children, you know.
It turned out to be the most mind numbing tedious thing I had ever done, mainly due to the Very Important Chair, who desired us only to tell her how fabulous she was and express wonder at her exquisite taste, miraculous organisation and how she was practically perfect in every way.
It wasn't all bad though. I bonded early on with another committee member who intimated by shared looks and raised eyebrows that she too was failing to take the Very Important Dance as Very Seriously as she should, and we sniggered behind our hands each time the Very Important Chair babbled of 'shabby chick deecor for the marquee' or pronounced 'homage' as 'oomidge'. Cruel yes, but the meetings were long and dull and we had to make our fun where we could.
After months of biting my tongue and refraining from screaming was it really that fucking important if the table runners were a shade darker than the fucking tickets, our reward came in the form of the Pre Funland Piss Up, aka the 'Corporate Evening' (I don't make the proper fucking names up, ok), where all the sponsors and helpers are entertained by the committee members to a right royal knees up, held at the local distillery. What I hadn't realised when we were all taken aside by the VIC to make sure we had clean hands and had brushed our hair and be given a little pep talk about how we weren't there to get pissed, was that the distillery were providing all the booze, free, gratis, and unlimited!
Naughty New Friend and I exchanged yet another look. Thirty six years upon this earth have not yet taught me to regard a free bar as a pleasant bonus and not a challenge, and I was thrilled to discover she felt the same way. Also, it seems rude and churlish to say no when there are delightful girls going round with trays of drinks, and it is a hot evening and so your wine is evaporating very quickly and they keep offering to take away your nasty empty glass and give you a lovely full one!
By the time the VIC made her Very Important Speech, my Naughty New Friend and I were hysterical with our own hilarity and holding each other up as we collapsed with laughter.
I compounded my disgrace a little later when I was holding forth to various great and good worthies from the local rugby club. I was vaguely aware that I was possibly being a 'bit much' as I loudly regaled them with some of the filthier jokes I have learned over the years of working in a male dominated industry and having a sick sense of humour, and I incurred the wrath of the VIC who came over and suggested I should 'circulate' instead of 'hogging these chaps' who she 'would chat to now' . The 'chaps' shouted "No, leave her, she's funny- you circulate." and the VIC, who rather fancies most of the enclave has a sort of head girlish crush on her, circulated off on her heel.
Sadly, they called time on the free bar, and we had to return to the enclave and its hostelries. There was some question of how we would make our way back to the enclave, and talk was had of the bus (public transport, quelle horreur).
Naughty New Friend had a better plan. Dashing out to the side of the road, she flagged down the first car driven by someone who looked vaguely local, hopped in and demanded they took us to the pub. Basically we car jacked a granny, so great was our horror of public transport. Bless the granny, she took us, and I shall never curse a Honda Jazz driver again.
The pub was a mistake. My last clear memory was the VIC watching us drive off with granny, mouth like a cat's bum (thanks again to St Jilly for another splendid phrase). After that it is a bit hazy. There was definitely a heated debate about Scottish independence, which I took part in whole heartedly, despite having forgotten all the clever and rational arguments about why it is a bad idea and thus backing up my anti- independence stance by simply shouting "NO, YOU'RE STUPID". Luckily everyone else was also very drunk and putting forward equally well reasoned and coherent arguments.
The pub ran out of drink, distressingly early given the fun we were having, but far too late given the hangover I had the next day!
I tottered home, to be found by the DC slumped on the front step, searching through my handbag for my key by the light on my phone. It is definitely the last time he will ever find me in such a state though- I have bought a little motion activated light for my key.
Simply brilliant! Would love to see these blogs collected together in a book.
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