As a special birthday treat for a friend who has been through a lot lately, I bought us tickets to go see Legally Blonde the musical (okay, yes, I just wanted to see it but I also thought it’d be right up her street so, as far as I’m concerned, it’s a win-win). We were both ridiculously excited. I wore a pink dress, obviously. We had decided to go to a matinee as it suited us better and consequently were surrounded by teenagers on school trips. It was so totally awesome! I saw it in Edinburgh in September but I needed another dose of the pink joyfulness. Legally Blonde remains one of my top ten movies for never failing to cheer me up and I’ve often been described as the history version of Elle Woods because of my fondness for pink, my long blonde hair and my love of pretty accessories. And the fact that I’m not really as dumb as I appear…at least, I hope so.
We had a ball, laughing, singing, cheering and practically wetting ourselves at the funniest song in musical history ‘Gay or European?’ Add into that our excited recognition of semi-celebs Ray Quinn and Les Dennis and our complete and utter adoration of the guy who played Emmett (yes, I’ve since googled his real name and dutifully starting following him on twitter). It was the loveliest way to spend an afternoon.
After a coffee break (I had an iced latte which means it’s now officially summer time) and a wee chat we set off for our next social engagement. The young adults group from my church had organised a dinner and since I felt a little guilty about not attending anything since January, I asked if I could bring a friend. Dinner was in this restaurant in a college where they train chefs, I never even knew such a thing existed but was up for trying it out. We met up with the group; after being chatted up by a man in a tuxedo in the car park, and all ten of us sat down to enjoy a night of fine food and company.
The company certainly was fine, we had a right laugh at my end of the table. It’s always weird when you introduce one friend or group to another, like separate parts of your life are colliding. My friend revealed something about me that I had managed to keep secret from the group for about eight years. When I was in school, I had a reputation for dating ‘all the tuba players’ in our school. I should quantify this by pointing out that there only were two, but that didn’t matter at the time, it was all a hilarious joke for the ‘music crowd’ which I guess I was part of. In my last year, people used to borrow my sheet music in choir and write ‘tubalicious’ on it, a word solely invented for me. The first, and first tuba incidentally, was my first boyfriend, we dated for a year on and off until he decided it should stay off. The abruptness of our break-up (by text, after he had borrowed my phone and deleted all messages from him as well as his number – who does that?) and the fact that I saw him every flipping day meant that after a while, there was a lot of pressure to prove who was over who first. Yes, it was very childish but I was only 16, I wouldn’t act like that now…probably. Anyway, the second tuba, two years younger, was a renowned flirt known as ‘Pervy Pete’ a nickname I had in fact given him during my relationship with the first tuba. I knew I could pull Pervy Pete, he’d always had a bit of a thing for me, so it was easy to flirt outrageously with him at choir events, hold hands with him on the bus, let him kiss me whenever he wanted. We never actually went as far as ‘boyfriend and girlfriend’ but still, word spread that I had a thing for tuba players, it didn’t help that the mantra of tuba players in our school was ‘tongue harder, finger faster’.
Embarrassing secrets aside, we had a great time at dinner, the only problem was the dinner itself. There were three options for starters; smoked salmon, goat cheese tart and carrot and parsnip soup. I like none of these so I declined from the starters. For mains we had steak and chips, chicken breast and cabbage or Irish stew. We were told that there were only two steaks left, two instantly claimed them and the rest started ordering. The guy beside me ordered chicken and the waiter announced that that was all the chicken gone too. My face fell; I have always loathed Irish stew. Fortunately, someone knew this about me and swapped me for their steak. Dessert was either lemon posset or apple crumble. Most went crumble, I myself believe that fruit should never be cooked in anything and went for the posset. Our waiter reported back that the apple crumble was burnt and offered alternatives of mint parfait or ice cream. Having made second choices for dessert, he came to tell us half the posset was expired so there wasn’t enough; four of us could have posset, three could have parfait, the others would have to have ice cream. By this stage it was like a comedy of errors, especially when someone realised she had soup spilled down her back when she had eaten salmon.
At the end of the day I dropped my friend home, only to discover that someone had smashed her rear light and dented the boot of her car….
Quite an eventful day.