Going Out – Part One

We had tickets to see Jeremy Hardy last night. It’s a rare occurrence for Paul and I to actually leave the house at the same time and end up at the same destination so we were looking forward to it.

The evening started exactly as expected with Paul being a bit later than usual and Phoebe finding the need to start a 48 piece jigsaw, naked, while I was trying to hoover the floor (because in my head I need to impress my 18 year old babysitter with my housecleaning prowess).
I strongly suggested the girls should help me tidy their bedroom so Amara could actually cross the floor without falling headlong into the dolls house. There was a bit of enthusiastic tidying so I left them to it. Whilst I was hastily applying mascara I heard two things that concerned me:
1. “I know you said put the books on the shelf Mummy, but I think it would be better if the books were in alphabetical order”
2. “Aaaaaaaaaargh!”
I went into their room to find:
1. All the girls books all over the floor while Tilly attempted to find all the ones beginning with A and,
2. Phoebe screaming under the curtains and curtain rail which were now in a heap on the floor. Oh brilliant.
Once comforted Phoebe went with Tilly and ran around in circles in the living room while the babysitter looked bemused. I convinced Paul that we should put the curtains back up before leaving the house and managed it with only a little swearing under our breath. I imagine the babysitter thought we were a bit odd.
We left eventually and went to town. Fortunately we were early enough for a drink, but unfortunately we chose the nearest bar to the City Hall and ended up in Yates. Which seemingly has poles to dance round. Thank goodness it was early. We left feeling a bit grubby and ancient.
We then went into the gig and in contrast were the youngest people there. There were to be quite a few jokes about his Radio 4 demographic.
Just before he came on the five women behind us decided to have some kind of picnic. The ring leader produced multipacks of chocolate. Specifically “a Bounty or a Snickers?” I realised I was on the verge of tutting a pensioner (or at the very least giving her a Paddington hard stare). Then she managed to turn my anger into amusement by asking her friends if they “do Activia?” and offering round yoghurts. Now that’s something I’ve never experienced before.
And the gig? Very funny. I saw Jeremy Hardy about 18 years ago. He is still brilliant and of course just as left wing. I was secretly hoping that an audience member had brought along an unsuspecting Tory voter for a laugh. If there were any in the audience they certainly wouldn’t have dared mention it. There is something extremely cathartic about mass appreciative verbal Conservative bashing.
We are going out again on Friday. More comedy. Probably before and after we leave the house.

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