Have I been in a coma and lost six months or something?
The reason I ask is because the sky has been black and the rain has been lashing down constantly since Friday and it looks and feels like the middle of winter rather than the middle of summer and I DON’T LIKE IT!
It is times like this when I wonder why I thought it was a good idea to book a trip to the Arctic in January when it’s going to be permanently dark. I don’t function well in winter, it takes me all my time just to get out of bed. I didn’t think humans were supposed to hibernate, maybe I’m a hedgehog in a human body.
So. What’s been happening this weekend then? Sweet fanny Adams, that’s what. Rain stopped play and it’s still at it.
Lack of dance shoes stopped us going dancing, always a good back up,plan when the weather’s rubbish.
Have you any idea how hard it is to get a pair of good dance shoes in a UK size 7? There’s none of this just walking into a shop and saying, “Ill have these in a 7, please.” Oh no. They all have to be ordered in ‘specially. Not good when your last pair have actually died and had a formal burial at sea (If throwing them in the bin in our cabin counts as a burial. We were at sea though).
Why, oh why, oh why did I not make it to Blackpool for the dance festival in May when all the major stockists were there? Now I’m stuck waiting for some to come from Germany (” might take as long as three months, love”) and I’m having a pair made in Hong Kong as they only go up to size 6 and they have to custom make larger sizes. Having them made in HK is still loads cheaper than buying a pair of the top UK brand.
Right, I’ve got all the moaning off my chest. What else hapened?
It was Batty’s junior prom at school.
In my day it was called a leaver’s party. It involved being dropped off at the school gates, a disco run by the teachers in the school hall decorated with a few balloons and with only half the lights turned on to create ‘ambience’ There were always a few curly ham butties made by the mums on the PTA and to make it a real occasion a plate of Mr Kipling’s french fancies. You could only have one, mind.
Nowadays they call it a prom and it’s a totally different experience.
For months beforehand the kids are getting whipped into a frenzy. Outfit choices have to be perfect. Dresses are chosen and rejected on a weekly basis. Stretch Hummers, limos, horses and carriages, helicopters and all manner of expensive modes of travel drop off the kids in formal evening wear for a phantasmagorical evening of sound and light professionally administered. Outside caterers provide the food with not a curly butty in sight.
Whatever happened to the curly ham butties?
Since it’s turned into such a huge occasion (Thanks for that, you Americans), I popped down to take a few photos of Batty and her bezzie mate with their limo. As a special treat I did a studio portrait shoot for her as well.
I wished I hadn’t.
It wasn’t a child I was photographing, it was a very self assured and beautiful young lady. How did my tiny, sweet, baby granddaughter grow up so quickly?
Can someone please tell me where those years have gone? Have I been in a coma and missed a few out or something?