What a wonderful weekend! 1970’s themed dinner party on Friday night. Prawn cocktail and melon balls; coq au vin, (sophisticated); crepes suzettes; all washed down with Babycham and Grand Marnier. Classy. Authentic. You should have seen the table cloth. Not to mention the cravats. Ah, that’s lesbians for you though.
Speaking of which, the RYA Dinghy Show (“want that one, want that one, want that one”) was on this weekend at Alexandra Palace which is a mere hop and a skip, or maybe more of a tack and a lee-oh away from my house and my lovely old mate (as in we’ve known each other for years, not as in ‘mate’ on a ship - it’s a dinghy show, we’re not pirates.) was working there for her company, International Marine Paints...she’ll be glad of that mention when I tell her this blog is read by at least six people.
Of course, I didn’t know at this time what her company was called and I was struggling to find her stand as I wandered through the airless corridors between boats and boating holidays and people smiling too close to my face and asking whether I’d like to buy a boat or a boating holiday so I decided to call her dad and ask him what the name of her company was so I could locate her on the show map.
It might be worth mentioning at this point that her dad may be one of the six people that reads this blog so excuse me for a moment while I say “Hi”.
Hey Uncle Alan x Let me know if you’d rather I didn’t use your real name xxx
It might also be worth mentioning that Alan (I’ve dropped the ‘uncle’ now that i’m a grown up. And he’s not actually my uncle. Now I call him ‘Big Al’. Not to his face.) was one of the friends that stayed with his wife (“Hi Auntie Rosemary” x erm, I mean, “Hi Rosie...”) and my mum and dad in the apartment above the bar in Fuengerola. (See oranges, lemons and bananagrams.) Their daughter, Naomi was one of the friends that stayed with me and my brother in the villa by the pool and kept our parents awake by singing La Dolce Vita in the bar until 2am. Just so you get a sense of the history.
So I call Unc, er, Alan:
ME: Hi Unc, er, Alan. It’s Lara...
BIG AL: Hi Loulabelle, er, I mean, Lara...
ME: How are you? How’s Aun, er, Rosie?
BIG AL: We’re fine love. How are you?
ME: I’m fine but I’m in a bit of a dilemma. You’re kind of my ‘phone a friend’.
BIG AL: What’s up?
ME: I can’t find Naomi
BIG AL: You can’t find Naomi?
BIG AL: Why are you looking for her?
ME: Because she’s here somewhere, but I can’t find her on the map.
BIG AL: You mean you can’t find her address?
ME: No, I can’t find actual Naomi.
BIG AL: Actual Naomi?
ME: Yes, Naomi’s actual body.
It might also be worth mentioning that Alan didn’t know that Naomi was at the Dinghy Show, or that the Dinghy Show was right near my house or indeed that I myself, was at the Dinghy Show. Needless to say, he was able to tell me the name of the company that she works for is International Marine Paints (delivering pioneering marine coating technologies that keep the global shipping fleet protected for a lifetime at sea...) and I got to spend ten minutes with my old mate (oooo-arrrr) and a free pen.
And I think I might have signed up for a boating holiday in May.
A few friends have compiled the questions for their school quiz night next Friday, so Saturday night was spent being guinea pigs. Not actual guinea pigs, like fancy dress or some weird fetish party where we all throw our car keys in a bowl (that was Friday night!! Ha ha)...No. Guinea pigs for the quiz. We were to act as a team and ‘do’ the quiz to test out the questions. Like a real team. Our team was called The Guinea Pigs. It was an excellent quiz, and if you have nothing to do next Friday, get yourself along to Alexandra Park School (I should be getting sponsorship.) Not too difficult, not too easy. And you do get to see a clip of that moment when the female UK bobsledder rips her pants which made me laugh for a full twenty minutes. And you get to taste lots of different flavours of pop corn. Which in fairness may make you feel a bit like a guinea pig. An actual one.
I won’t be there obviously. I already know all the answers. I’ll be at home on YouTube watching that moment when the female UK bobsledder rips her pants on a loop.