Blog readers, I have to inform you that I’m exhausted.
Here I am, Monday evening, feeling like I have not had a weekend. I began my weekend on my favourite day, Friday night, full of great intentions. I woke up Saturday morning, excited about my run. However, the sad thing is I hated every step! Like dragging the fattest backside around the city. I had carb loaded as is necessary, eating a lovely chicken in a tarragon and white wine sauce with gnocchi. Protein, carbs, with a bit of cream sauce indulgence. Pure Friday night bliss.
So I was off to Nottingham to see Jonathon. Nottinghamshire Pride was calling. I rather ridiculously had not been at home for a weekend since the end of June. Seriously, a month had passed and i have not see at Saturday in my home. This is madness. But Heather Small asks us, what have we done today to make you feed Proud? This year, my pride has thus far been low. So I needed to redress this.
Nottinghamshire Pride was based in a park on the outskirts of the city. The weather was great, the sun beating down. It was a confusing mish mash of stalls, music, fair ground and bars. Music wise, we suffered a young girl on the acoustic stage who whined through her set. Horrendous. And Notts seems to be full of some rather bizarre looking people. My favourite was a Roy Cropper lookalike in a silk blouse, skirt and 5 inch heels. And yet again, gay women seem to strip their blouses off as soon as the sun comes out. There’s nothing like showing off your flesh coloured bra.
I meanwhile in retrospect could not have chosen a gayer outfit.
Post pride, we went home for wine, Going out with Alan Carr, fajitas and an Adam provided dessert. I tried a strawberry tart for the first time. I made a sweet pastry crust, filled with pastry cream and topped with sliced strawberries. I don’t wish to blow my own trumpet, but the boy did good.
We headed out to a few bars in the evening to show our pride. Great time, but busy. I’m too old fair readers for all this.
I should not have to face teenagers. Especially not vile teenagers who go out without shirts on. Who push and shove me and stand square in my face. Or spill their pints over me.
I spoke to my mum about it. I enjoy a bit of a dance. I enjoy a gin and tonic. But my tastes have changed. I don’t crave the whole nonsense of a busy club and the hateful crowd like I used to. It’s just not worth it. I don’t need to be sweated upon. I feel old for saying these things. I was never going to be this much of a home bird. I was never going to crave a quiet life. My life was never going to be better for the ability to bake bread and a slow cooked joint. A leisurely day with no socialising was never going to be my idea of heaven. But one it is. I am my own parents.
Indeed, midway through the night, I required a nap. Good job I had company.
Prize for whoever guesses the one person actually asleep!
Blog later folks!
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