(no subject)

Last night was the Mayor of Fareham's Ball at the Ferneham Hall.

We started the evening in the VIP reception area with glasses of champers. When Brian from Hart arrived, he confessed to me that it was his birthday, and a round one at that, but asked me not to circulate which one it was :) So I simply announced to the group "It's Brian's birthday," and everybody crowded round to wish him happy happys.

We were on a table with Tony and Margaret from Basingstoke, so the conversation soon turned to their own Ball next Friday. They began to tell us some of the delights in store for us that night, so I quipped to Margaret, who was next to me, "I'm sure Tony can lay on some Shepherd Neame beers." This was no more than an in-joke as he had provided them at his firework night, but Margaret took me deadly seriously and had me write down the name on an unused lucky draw envelope, before going into an over-the-top routine about "If champagne isn't good enough for you..." and turning to Brian - "You're happy with champagne, aren't you?" Tony was actually now talking about getting a couple of beers in specially for me. I tried to tell him that wouldn't be necessary, I was OK with what the caterers would provide, till Margaret bore me down with more "Oh, how do you expect us to get them without making a special effort?" I hadn't had the chance to say I'd just been making an off-the-cuff quip, and was totally lost by now. She then turned to me with a big grin and said how she'd only been kidding and all that, and Tony actually promised to get me in 2 Shepherd Neames over my protestations that it really wasn't necessary. Then they asked us if we'd sit at the table presided over by their student daughter, and if we'd look after her.

Brian regaled us with a variety of jokes as the meal progressed. After main course girls came round selling raffle envelopes from silver tubs; each envelope contained a slip either saying you'd won prize number x, or that you'd won a consolation prize (a rug mouse mat), or 'Sorry'. My mother, Brian and I all got 'Sorry'; I made the 'Er-errr!' noise from Family Fortunes when I opened mine, and again when me ma opened hers. Tony and Margaret won a mouse mat each, so they gave us one.

There were After Eights after the meal; not everyone on our table took one, but, mindful of the pounds I've put on over Easter, I resisted the temptation to have one of the spares.

The band, 'Contrast', weren't bad, playing a mixture of 60s pop and 70s disco. I hit the dancefloor when Maria did, but left it when I Will Survive started. I fucking hate I Will Survive, but during the second verse Katrina asked me to dance, so I had to return to the floor. When the singer sang 'I'm saving all my loving for someone who's loving me' I sang along, changing it to 'I'm saving all my loving for HWFC'. Later on I got pelters from Tony for leaving the 'chain gang group' halfway through Hot Stuff (my explanation, that I'd left the dancefloor when Maria did, didn't get me off the hook).

The music was interrupted for the lucky draw (not won by anyone on our table) and the auctioning of a teddy bear that the Mistress of Ceremonies decided to christen 'St George' because it was a St George's Day Ball and he'd been dressed up in an England shirt and a St George Cross cardboard shield. This was a 'penny auction', where the bidding started at 1p - but as soon as you bid, you put your money in the Mayor's Charity pot, and there it stayed even if you were outbid. The bidding eventually reached £200 - not going up at just a penny a time! - raising nearly £500 in all.

The dancing resumed. While taking time out I talked to David from New Forest, who began musing, wondering why we hadn't seen Charles' friend Kirsty since the Southampton Ball and what had become of her. He proceeded to wax lyrical about what a 'lovely girl' she was. I think he fancies her.

Must go to the Post Office and send that Eurovision package to our friend in Tahiti.

(no subject)

Hawks stuffed Thurrock 3-0 at Westleigh Park today, but I spent the afternoon following it via Radio Solent :( I need what little money I've got left this month for the girls' games, razors, and a Blue Charge and a coffee on Monday night. The £5 I have spare after all that wouldn't even have covered the train fare to Havant and a Magners - though I might have made it if it hadn't been for spending £2.41 sending that Eurovision package to Tahiti. I've e-mailed the Eurovision Shop asking them to pay me the money, but that'll take time.

So I was stuck with the 90th birthday party of a Gosporteer this evening instead. Actually everyone was perfectly friendly (all the Gosporteers made an almighty fuss of my mother as always) and there were some nice nibbles on the table and even a couple of bottles of Marston's Pedigree :) Most of the evening consisted of a stand-up show by a comic and impressionist, Glen Ford. I was sat next to Julia, the councillor who's submitted some poetry to the box. When Glen asked "Hands up all the married people," and Julia raised her hand while I didn't raise mine, Glen, who must have thought I was married to Julia, said of me "He's fallen asleep!" "He's not my husband!" Julia exclaimed, but it didn't register with Glen. My having "woken up" became a staple of the rest of Glen's act.