Well: it felt like a ball to me.
If you ever need a dance partner for a night out, i’m your girl!!!
Heading up the A1 at half three in the morning it struck me that trying to do the whole trip in one burst was seriously silly. I was tired. It was very wet, with occasional cloud-bursts reducing visibility to near zero.
(Hmmmm. Perhaps I could do weather forecasts as well).
So I stopped off at Mimms Services, which thankfully has two all night coffee shops. I sat, relaxed, happy.
At which point two blokes decided to introduce themselves. I was wary. They were obviously a little inebriated. One was doing suggestive things with a banana. I braced myself for a load of double-entendres at my expense.
They never came. One – the quieter, slightly less loud – shook hands. Was I a man or a woman, he asked. Polite: genuine ask. OK: a bit forward but not, in this circumstance, threatening.
“In between”, I told him.
I looked very happy, he said: glowing. He congratulated me. How old was I?
He guessed: several years less than my actual age, but not quite as flattering as some recent guesses have been. I sulked. I suppose I can be something of a cliché.
(and i guessed his age to within a year).
More chitchat: I should wear leggings, he told me, and not the skirt I had changed back into post-club. It IS a bit “mumsy” – but equally, tis safer to wander the streets of London late at night looking that way than wearing a barely legal micro.
I told him my leggings story.
He told me a bit about himself. He’d just been playing a gig. He was, he claimed, a former member of one of the hottest bands of the last two decades (I’ve googled and yes: it looks like he was!). Maybe I disappointed slightly by not recognising him: by not going all gigly and star-struck. Or maybe that was a relief.
It was not a lengthy encounter. We said goodbye. I got a hug .
Ships in the night.
His slightly less coherent partner thought I looked like a singer called Vinny Peculiar. Both then agreed this was so.
I am not sure what I think about that.