(no subject)

I'd had an early night, but felt like a zombie yesterday.

( Winchester Civic Day )

Back home, we got our things together and got out of the Mayoral car. I went to retrieve the wine from the boot, picked the box up side-on - then next thing I heard was a crash. I looked back to see one of the bottles smashed on the road. I hadn't known that the top of the box wasn't solid, but a flap that flew open... I could have done without my mother's exclamation of "What have you done?", with the implication that I'm always to blame for everything. So then we had to sweep all the glass off the road, then my mother went indoors to do my father's dinner. With having felt a bit lethargic all day, and now the wine incident, I was now in a foul mood, so slipped quietly upstairs to listen to some music.

It wasn't long before we were on the road again, as John the chauffeur and his wife Glynis had invited us to the final of Southsea's Search for a Star. He'd been to the heats and semis, and all through the drive there, he told us that 'Faces of Disco' were a certainty to win and drag queen 'Miss G' was a shoo-in for second spot. When we arrived at the venue John got a round of drinks in. Still light-headed, I asked for a coke, but he insisted I had to have alcohol so I went for a Bulmer's. He promptly came back with two bottles, plus double drinks for everyone else (to save us having to get up and queue during the show). As John had bought the drinks, my mother (over his protests) insisted on buying the food. John had told us the venue's chips were superb - they were, and the hot dog was rather tasty too.

The warm-up act, a male/female duo, were quite entertaining - in between songs they told us the story of how they'd begun dating while performing together and were now going to get married. Then it was on with the contest.

It was unfortunate that Miss G and Faces of Disco were the only acts John liked and were on first and second, as after they'd been on we then had to put up with him being Victor Meldrew for all the rest of the show. Miss G was a good performer but I didn't find 'her' material that funny, but Faces of Disco were very good, singing 70s disco songs and all the while doing rapid changes of comedy costume (including donning masks of the Queen and Prince Charles to flash their shorts and sing YMCA!)

During the interval John delivered me two more bottles of Bulmer's.

My favourite was a sweet young lady from the Isle of Wight called Stacey-Ann, with a fine singing voice. At the end of her set I roared and gave her a generous round of applause, then noticed my mother laughing embarrassedly. It turned out that my roar of approval to Stacey-Ann had caused John, whom I wasn't facing, to glare corrosively... Even my mother asked whether I was impressed with the girl's singing performance or her looks. Cheek. I also liked the next act, a mixed vocal trio called Tux who performed a medley of Motown and 70s dance classics.

When I clapped at the end of an unremarkable singer's set, John said I shouldn't be so generous and ought to boo the bad ones. I said I clap all the acts as they've got the balls to get up on the stage and perform; he conceded that I had a point. When the last act finished it was 11.20 - Glynis was staying to hear the result in half an hour's time, but she had a friend who was able to give her a lift, so my mother and John agreed we'd go home. That was fine by me as I was swaying under the influence of the ciders...

Feeling a bit crook this morning.

Pain In The Arse Picnic In The Park

Tonight we attended the town's 'Proms in the Park'. It was our mayoral duty to be there, but I found out just this morning that my mother had decided to invite Aunt Jean, Uncle Graham and Gran along and have a group picnic. So I (and the others) had to hump umpteen cooler bags and heavy duty carrier bags packed to the gunnels with assorted nibbles from our house to the official people-carrier, then, on arrival, from the car to a spot on the edge of the crowd about two-thirds back.

It wasn't my type of music, of course, but I have to say the Band of the Royal Marines, Dartmouth, gave a flawless performance. I was really in the mood to be alone; I thought solitude ought to be easy to achieve at an event like this where all you do is listen reverently, so positioned my chair a little forward of the others and facing the stage. It didn't work; I got tapped on the shoulder every 30 seconds to be offered some nibble or other. Whoever did the chicken legs ruined them by making them hot and spicy, but the sausages were all right. To my joy there was a tub of olives on the table, but some time after I'd taken two small handfuls in quickish succession (there were still plenty left) the olives disappeared :(

At the interval we did our mayor and consort bit, walking round the park, talking to some of the musicians and saying hello to some of the service people, then on our way back to our pitch my mother was stopped by a local churchwarden wanting to talk to her about his organ.

I looked around for Miss K2, but didn't see her.

Uncle Graham came up trumps at the start of the second half, producing Chunky Kit Kats and caramel wafers. My mother got her cheese out, including some Mull of Kintyre mature cheddar. Now you're talking! I carved myself a largish chunk but left plenty for the others, but they all preferred to stick to the Irish cheddar. Came the finale, Rule Britannia accompanied by spectacular fireworks; without thinking, I couldn't stop myself singing "Rule Britannia, marmalade and jam, 5 Chinese crackers..." etc. I don't think anyone noticed :) Then when everyone stood up for Land of Hope and Glory I suddenly felt my arm being linked. It was my mother weaving us all into a line to bob up and down; apparently they do that at the Last Night of the Proms. I hadn't known that; Aunt Jean expressed sniffy surprise that I'd never attended the Last Night in person during the 13 years I lived in London. Our attempts at co-ordinated bobbing up and down were shambolic, so we soon settled for swaying from side to side instead.

And that was it; time to hump all the bags back to the people-carrier again. When we got home, my mother went and gave the leftover Mull of Kintyre cheese to bloody John the driver. Feh.