Wednesday, March 31, 2004

Life begins @ ...

Picture this ...

It is the Saturday morning before the ultimate surprise party I'm planning for my beloved to celebrate his 40th birthday. We are lying in bed soaking up the notion that we do not have to respond to the alarm or the phone, just the Saturday paper and a lovely breakfast of fat toast and scrambled eggs.

I was feeling pretty pleased with myself for tonight we were having dinner some friends, Dave & Catherine, who we had been trying to catch up with them for months, at a lovely restaurant in Manchester. This was not the surprise though. Unbeknownst to Ian I had arranged for 20 or so of our friends to sneak into the club downstairs where Dave is the resident DJ and had been a great help at getting all our friend’s names on the guest list etc. etc. Quite a cosy, classy little club and perfect in that it was downstairs from where we were eating dinner.

So as I contemplated whether to get up or read one more chapter my reverie is shattered when Ian rolls over and says ... "I don't think I'm gonna make dinner tonight, I feel like shit".

I looked at him calmly while my mind frantically ran through my options. Did I suggest we wait till later in the day to see how he felt? No. He had been sick for a few days and tended to feel worse towards the end of the day. Did I pretend I didn't hear him and resume reading? No. He knew I'd heard him cause I blanched. Or did I suggest that he just take lots of drugs and bear up? No cause he'd have slapped me. So I did what I'd restrained myself from spilling for over a month ... I told him.

“If you can’t make it tonight I am going to have to get out of bed now and make 15 odd phone calls to let the others know.”

"What others?" he replied coming over all weird.

"The other people who are going to be there". I said.

"I don't get it", he answered.

"Think about it", I said.

The lights came on, he laughed into his pillow and blushed.

I was disappointed that the 'wow' factor would be lost, so were Dave & Catherine as they were so keyed up to blind face lie to Ian all night as well as devise a way to convince Ian to come down to the Basement for a drink and a boogie! All that said it was still a fantastic night!

Jammy came over from Leeds.
Anna & Kev came down from Newcastle.
Jenny came up from London.
& Martin all rocked up from the 4 corners of Manchester.

Sadly, James, PJ, John & Catherine, Stuart & Kirsty, Cath, Paula & Emma were last minute cancellations due to sickness and/or babies who would not let their parents out.

So although some great mates could not make it we managed to enjoy ourselves nonetheless. Vodka Martinis are like that.

We stumbled out at 2.30am and all got on a bus (I must have been drunk cause I don't 'do' buses after 6.30pm) and chortled our way to Withington where again I uncharacteristically agreed to get hot chips from the local chippy still mad enough to be open at 3.00am on a Sunday morning. Very nice chips too if my vodka soaked memory serves me correctly.

The clocks went forward this weekend (Oh God Spring if finally here!) so the sum total of our Saturday night out was 5.30am. And didn't we feel like shit the next day?

We had a lazy Sunday which started with a big, fortifying breakfast followed by the Sunday papers, chatter, 2 episodes of 'Spaced' (you know the one where Tyres takes the gang clubbing - laugh out loud funny!), copious amounts of tea and chocolate after which Jenny & Jammy headed back to their respective cities, I fell into bed and Ian fell into a coma from which he has yet to emerge. When I say coma I mean sick-as-a-dog-barking-cough type deal - poor puppy. Pardon the pun.

Enough said.

Listening to: Songs for Jane, Maroon 5
Reading: The Tin Princess, Philip Pullman


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