little did I know that by the end of the yesterday I would be wearing a shiny green stetson throwing disco shapes in a maroon velvet tent...
The day started innocuously enough, I had knocked off a spoon painting which pleased me greatly when nurse Caz informed me that I was to accompany her to a gallery in the West End (whenever I use the word west I think of Ruislip now) where we were to look at the work of Iranian-American painter Tala Madani; she produces politically charged humorous canvases and I paticularly enjoyed those that utilised the enema bag!
I was pleased to notice a white Ant chair in the lavatory!
At this point the day started to go pear shaped resulting in me finding myself seated at a table for eight in a velvet tent eating beef in a chocolate sauce with nurse Caz to one side and a natural redhead to the other. The redhead and I shared a passion for smoking unlike the nurse who smoulders when I spark up (she is the tinder to the camp-fire of life).
As we ate a troupe of Motley dressed South Africans performed syncronised dangling (girl on girl) and ladyboy contortionism (memories of Lingling (I'd forgotten that she is still in the cupboard under the stairs)) fat ladies sang and bearded men in dresses roller-skated between the tables. More fat ladies sang and still it wasn't over.
Nurse Caz gave a rebel yell; particularly liking the trousers worn by one of the male danglers and went on to inform me that he looked like a Goan hippy! Fat ladies sang again and it still wasn't over.
Suddenly I found myself in a lime green stetson swaying to the timeless abuse of 80's disco. Then it was over, I cannot recal if the fat lady sang again.
We all parted in the car-park under the table legs of Battersea power station.
I refuse to mention the drinking straw in the shape of a penis other than to remark: "So that's what they look like".
The day started innocuously enough, I had knocked off a spoon painting which pleased me greatly when nurse Caz informed me that I was to accompany her to a gallery in the West End (whenever I use the word west I think of Ruislip now) where we were to look at the work of Iranian-American painter Tala Madani; she produces politically charged humorous canvases and I paticularly enjoyed those that utilised the enema bag!
I was pleased to notice a white Ant chair in the lavatory!
At this point the day started to go pear shaped resulting in me finding myself seated at a table for eight in a velvet tent eating beef in a chocolate sauce with nurse Caz to one side and a natural redhead to the other. The redhead and I shared a passion for smoking unlike the nurse who smoulders when I spark up (she is the tinder to the camp-fire of life).
As we ate a troupe of Motley dressed South Africans performed syncronised dangling (girl on girl) and ladyboy contortionism (memories of Lingling (I'd forgotten that she is still in the cupboard under the stairs)) fat ladies sang and bearded men in dresses roller-skated between the tables. More fat ladies sang and still it wasn't over.
Nurse Caz gave a rebel yell; particularly liking the trousers worn by one of the male danglers and went on to inform me that he looked like a Goan hippy! Fat ladies sang again and it still wasn't over.
Suddenly I found myself in a lime green stetson swaying to the timeless abuse of 80's disco. Then it was over, I cannot recal if the fat lady sang again.
We all parted in the car-park under the table legs of Battersea power station.
I refuse to mention the drinking straw in the shape of a penis other than to remark: "So that's what they look like".
2 comments:
Smells like middle-age dinner theatre.
Tasted like it too
Post a Comment