Seasonal Outings for Glass Slippers
Dear reader, December has been hectic and we're only in the first week.
Last week the One Team Thunderbird had her 21st birthday.
This event was to last a week, according to her note on the fridge. The birthday, as it turned out, also occupied the freezer for a week.
After two days we Mutton people (Mr Him and I ) were exhausted, and in desperate need of putting shopping away in the freezer. Her note had also dictated she was to wake up to balloons around her bed and be given an x box 3. She was disappointed. The balloon fairy did not arrive in the night but her boyfriend did get her an x box.
She went out to a Western themed restaurant on her big day with her work colleagues.
The next day she had dinner out with Mutton Woman (moi), Mr Him and her friends. Now I must mention here that I had had my work Christmas lunch that day so was very overindulged myself (although it didn't include an x box 3, which is as well as I wouldn't have known what to do with it if it had.)
At my Xmas lunch I was a designated photographer. As such, as colleagues posed I took thematic pictures of the walls behind them, signs to the restrooms, decor, food and drink. My colleagues thought this was weird, funny and disappointing for their Facebook friends, all wrapped up in one seasonal feelings parcel.
The newly 21 year old enjoyed her dinner out with us but equally did not understand my attitude to pics.
The next night she and her boyfriend went to his work party at The Grand in Brighton, where she took pictures that I didn't understand. 500 selfies appeared on facebook as she took selfies from various spots in the hotel.
She wore my shoes and glitter cardigan and kept them out way after their usual bedtime. (note the freezer still loaded with her birthday bits).
I found the shoes collapsed in an indecorous and disheveled heap in the hall the following morning.
For the sake of full disclosure I should tell you that Mr Him and I also went out that night and arrived home just before midnight, unlike the shoes. I realised the limitations of Mr Him and his appearance as the clock struck 12. My shoes appeared to rather fancy themselves as glass slippers that were impervious to the hour.
Mr Him and I had gone to a ball the other side of the
Kingdom county. The ball started with a vinyl disco
which heralded in a male stripper, if you used your imagination. The singer came on stage in an overcoat and stripped down to leather trousers adorned with glittery bits.
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