The reason for the costume-donning (see picture below) was a Medieval charity ball complete with trestle tables and benches and a live Medieval band (which seems in itself, unlikely).
It was a case of quickly breaking the silence with the strangers on each side of you to organise synchronised nudging forward, or wearing your soup. We plumped for nudging.
However, although spoons were thankfully provided for the soup, they were cleared away before we had time to spot the absence of forks for the main meal. It was alright chomping Medieval-style on our spare ribs and chicken legs, but the potato salad proved interesting. We were all sneaking looks around the table to see who had resorted to cheating and using their pudding spoon to scoop up the potatoes.
As one would expect on a night associated with Medieval merry-making, the booze flowed. I'm not a seasoned drinker and it wasn't long before, in the style of an AA attendee, I was revealing to anyone who cared to listen (and those that didn't) that I never clean my windows, or my oven.
Now, although clearly not as meaningful as publicly declaring a potentially life-threatening addiction, anyone who knows me knows that, as the Channel 4 documentary title went, I'm a little bit OCD in a Monica from Friends kind of way. Declaring that I don't clean my windows is akin to the episode when Chandler discovers Monica's secret junk room.
I then just did some dodgy dancing to some dodgy music and was spotted begging for the Time Warp and singing Hang the DJ when the playlist went down hill.
Shocked at my tactless behaviour the next day I asked my husband if I had really been so rude to the DJ. He said, 'yes, but it's OK, everyone just ignored you'.
OK, two blogs in one day, I'm exhausted and off to relax. Now, who has moved my label maker?
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| A night of knights and fair maidens |
