That’s what, some time to herself to indulge her fantasies, and to go to the loo in peace.
I definitely got the former, but I am not so sure I got the latter – but as I was being serenaded by Robbie Williams while in that there cubicle, I can deal with that particular kind of noise, oh yes.
The night was, as it was always going to be, amazing. Time pasted so dam fast, I felt it was over before it had started. Wish I was back for more later in the week. Robbie may be nearly as old as I am, but he cuts it a dam sight better than me. As for Olly, those tight trousers are enough to make an old married women over-excited *swoon*
However, I did get something more than a bargained for; something red, throbbing, and swollen…
And unfortunately, it’s not what you dirty lot are thinking, its…my foot…
Can you spot the difference?
I knew I was getting on a bit – 40 next week in fact, hence the tickets to see the lovely Robbie and Olly last night, but this is beyond a joke. I got bitten by ONE SOLITARY INSECT – massive allergic reaction. This is the second week I have blogged with a photo of my feet in the post. People are going to think I have a foot fetish….
My foot actually looks like I was involved in a moshpit stampede, and it came off worst.
Actually, as I am getting on a bit, I was so far away from the moshpit, I didn’t have a cat in hells chance of being swamped by anything. My hopes of being spotted by Olly or Robbie, and dancing cheek to cheek with them in front of 68,000 at Wembley were dashed when I realised we were seating in “ye gods”
My foot was grateful, my fantasies were not.
However, due to a rather strategically placed speaker, I did seem to spend most of the gig with a great full screen view of both Olly’s and Robbie’s crotch regions. However, I feel a comparison would not be suitable at this time.
I even did what all sensible people do, left slightly earlier to avoid the rush…hence the tones of Robbie rang out while I bade farewell to the diet coke I had stupidly had on the train on the way there.
I had forgotten that I was a mum of two, I therefore had a bladder the size of a walnut. The need for the loo did result in some rather childish lyric manipulation:
“And through it all she offers me protection
A lot of love and affection
Whether I’m right or wrong
And down the waterfall
Wherever it may take me
I know that life won’t break me
When I come to call she won’t forsake me
I’m wee-ing Angels instead”
So even at (nearly) 40 I can sing childish songs in the loo. I apologise now for my inappropriateness. Guess I was missing the kids following me in after all….
Do tune in next week for more foot-related tales…
Anyone got any cream?