What do you do when you go out with your daughters on Christmas Eve and find yourself in a pub where, when you look around, you realise you’re old enough to be almost everyone’s mother?
Do you:
a) Think ‘wtf’?
b) Think ‘oh crap’?
c) Think ‘bloody hell, that music’s loud’?
d) Think ‘hang on, that’s music?’?
e) Think ‘feck, I’m too old for this’?
f) Think ‘sod it’?
g) Say ‘get me a drink. Now. In fact, make it several’?
The answer, my friends, is all of the above.
Whilst in the Pub For The Age Challenged (a.k.a. Show Me Your I.D. Because I Don’t Believe You’re Old Enough To Buy A Lemonade Let Alone A Beer), Youngest Daughter met up with many old school friends who she hasn’t seen for a few years. One or two of them came over to me, in a somewhat drunken state, to say hello. Trying not to sound too school marmish as I peered at them over the top of my glasses, I managed to resist asking them if their parents knew they were out and instead made polite conversation:
Me: Hello!
School Friend: Helloooooooooo! Ohhhhh! My mum shaw you on a plaaaane. Wheeeee!
Me: That’s right, although it was some time ago. How are you?
SF: I really mish Youngest Daughter. S’not same since you moved. Shouldn'tadunit. Reeeeally mish her. Shitloads. Oops, shorry. My mum said she shaaaaw yoooo. I luuuuv Youngest Daughter. Mish her. Come baaaaaack.
Me: Well, now you’ve found each other again, I’m sure you’ll stay in contact.
SF: Mish herrrr. Mish her soooo mush. (flinging her arms apart) I mish herrrr thisss mush.
At this point I peered at the Smirnoff Ice in my hand to discover I’d drunk it in record time, and with the lack of drink found my attention span had expired, so I turned her around, pointed her in Youngest Daughter’s direction and with a, “Well there she is, go talk to her!” gave her a gentle push. Luckily, she didn’t fall over.
I also discovered Captain Oz is a soppy drunk.
CO: I really love Eldest Daughter.
Me: Well, that’s good.
CO: I’m so happy I’m going to become part of your family.
Me: Well, th…
CO: I love her.
Me: You told me that.
CO: But I really do love her.
Me: Well, that’s good.
CO: She misses you a lot in Australia.
Me: Well I mi…
CO: But I love her. I’m so hap…
After hearing variations of the above several times over and there’s only so much eye rolling I can do before my eyes start aching:
Me: Oh look. I’ve finished all my drinks. I’m off to the bar.
When I got to the bar, I found it knee-deep with children. I managed to wade through and stood there calmly, waiting to be served. I was an oasis of tranquillity amongst the cries of ‘me next, me next, me next’. Calmness just wafted out of me. I made eye contact with one of the bar staff, my serenity paid off and I was served next. That, children, is how you do it.
After a few more drinks I mellowed out, and as my Facebook friends will have seen from photographic evidence, I thoroughly enjoyed myself.
On Christmas Day, my house was The House of Hangover. Even Eldest Daughter had a sympathy hangover.
But I didn’t.
Oh, don’t get me wrong, I’ll quite happily own up to being very merry (to the point where Youngest Daughter and I got the giggles and were snorty laughing over nothing while walking back to the car), but two pints of water before I went to bed and I was as right as rain the next morning. Besides, I wasn’t drinking wine.
I’m not described as sensible for nothing you know.
Yes, really.
The picture above has got nothing to do with anything that happened on Christmas Eve whatsoever. It was on the back of a Christmas card and it made me laugh. That is all.
