Like London buses, my socialising comes in short bursts and closely grouped together. Before Friday, I couldn't remember the last time I went out. I think it was to Electric House for a chi chi dinner - like months ago - with some very lovely PR friends. Does that count? At this rate, taking out the rubbish will start to count.
Given the above, last week has to count as a frenzy of activity. I was out Friday and Sunday! Gasp! How does she do it? Well, with great difficulty it turns out.
Take Friday, I was looking forward to seeing some old (Oi! less of the old! I hear) friends at a pub in Angel - The George Lamb I believe it was called. This is a pub hidden among the quiet leafy streets of the North London 'haves'. It was full of your typical Islingtonian: Designer jeans, graphic tees, i-Phone, a bit smug, very complacent with enormous egos outsized only by their sense of entitlement. No judgement!! I fitted right in (for a West London cat).
Rewind to a few days earlier, as Friday approached, I felt the world famous heaviness of lethargy tuck me in - like a well made hotel bed. The Silverback coaxed me out of this mood rightly pointing out that I would love it once I got there. And of course I did. I love my friends. I've done nothing but moan about how much I missed them in Canada so yes! I bucked up my ideas and got myself in the mood. I did better than that, I had 3 quarters of a bottle of red wine, a pint of house beer and two cocktails.
Many many hours later with i-Pod blaring - the earphones now stuck to my forehead - (having at some point in the night decided I needed to listen to Radio 4) I woke up: In my own bed (check); appropriately dressed (check); hubby around somewhere (check); Lishy safe (check); handbag on usually hook (check, check-a-doodle-do).
Anyway, I think it was about 4pm Saturday that I actually managed to peel the i-Pod headphones off my forehead and lift my head off the pillow. Bad idea. By 6pm my heart rate had just about returned to normal.
This does not bode well for someone who has decided to become more of a socialite.
If only it had stopped there but of course, when all I wanted to do was remain in a medically induced coma until the following Monday, committed to stirring only when the chores of motherhood dictated upright, homosapien behaviour - it struck me that I had in fact earlier agreed to attend a charity dance...yes...a DANCE (for crying out loud) on Sunday. ZUMBA no less.
Feeling like I'd spent Saturday night in the recovery room of St. Mary's Hospital, after a C-section, I dragged my carcass to Maida Vale tube the following evening with the gait used by Kevin Spacey's character in The Usual Suspects. Nothing left to do but toss a breath fresherner into the woolly hole that passed for a mouth and put my best foot forward.
And do you know what? It was hilariously good fun. Thankfully having Googled Zumba I realised the flamenco dress I had selected was indeed a bad wardrobe choice. With no embalming fluid to hand, I reached for Spandex instead figuring if this was going to be some kind of South American cock dance, I'd better wear something sweatproof, stretchy and easy for emergency services to cut off. Lucky choice because it turned out to be aerobics on speed.
It was immediately obvious that a few people hadn't done their research. They had no doubt imagined something 'more party less perspiration' and were soon struggling to stop their jeans from cutting off circulation to the upper body as rivulets of sweat seeped into the fibres causing them to shrink.
One man in particular who looked like Ozzy Osbourne (as Ozzy would have looked had he not left Birmingham) would revert to a kind of Parkinson-esque, piano fingers, hand jiggle while hopping from one foot to the other (as if what he really needed was the toilet) when he couldn't make out what the steps were.
I was no better mind. Last night I discovered that I might like music, I might be sort of flexible (for my age) but I dance like a white honky. Still. Got rid of the toxins and all for a good cause and now I'm ready to take on ...absolutely nothing for the next couple of weeks at least.
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