365 days - day 5

Day 5 and I'm feeling proud of myself for not giving up yet. Not sure how long today's post will be as I'm sat in a pub with a pint, typing on my phone, without my glasses on, so apologois (this one is deliberate, the next 100 won't be) for the inevitable typos.


Husband is playing pool nearby, playing deliberately badly so he can pull out his bandit card at the opportune moment. He is a pool master, having spent most of his formative years in the pubs and social clubs of London's east end. I've known him 20+ years and I've never seen him lose a game of pool. From the sound of things, tonight's not going to be any different.


Spent the day working at home, kids and husband wander down to the Eastbourne #Airbourne airshow in the afternoon, so I had some peace. It's #Alevelresultsday, which always makes me nostalgic, and took me back to my pre-husband days, when there was just me and a bunch of cats, with the place to myself and entirely my own choice of music on in the background.


If course now I'm not in a 1 bedroom flat in Ilford, the cats are different and I don't have to get up every 40 minutes to change the record over, but the sense of wellbeing is the same, and to honest, so is the playlist. The 80s really were the finest musical years of the last millennium.


I've always enjoyed my own company, partly because I'm a bit of a loner by nature, but also because sometimes people irritate me. Obviously, when you're as fantastic as me not many people.measure up, (joking) but no company means no expectations, no compromising and no shit music. Just how I like it.


So anyway, I digress. When the fam got back I demanded treats and told husband to take me out to dinner. When I say 'take me out' I mean go with me. I'm not a woman who needs taking anywhere, by anyone, but it's a term we use to him feel valued and me less of a control freak. He drives, to the place I've chosen. He orders, but I chose the starter. He pays, with but it's our money. It works for us.


We slipped over to the pub over the road for a swift half, only to discover, as fate would have it, that it's karaoke night. Hoorah! As a much, if not overly seasoned karaoke veteran (husband has been a DJ and karaoke host since the early days) we do occasionally.like to keep our hand in. Now the kids are old enough to be left at home alone for an eveing, perhaps there'll be more.


It's been a while and the pub is empty, but they'll be here soon - the oddalls and diehard wannabes that are still working the karaoke circuit. They turn up 5 minutes before the show starts with their paper song slips already filled out, and sit at their favourite table, in full view of where the screen will be, but far enough away from the front to be the centre of attention. Their moment will come, and when it does they will slough off their humdrum daily skin and transform, for 3 glorious minutes, into whoever they believe they truly are.


What they truly are, of course, is a bit weird and a bit shit at singing, but they're out, they've got company and they're having fun.


Right, husband is back, having slaughtered the opposition and the karaoke woman is setting up. I'll let you know how we get on.








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