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Sunday, 16 November 2014

In which One is a dico diva...

An unusual evening spent with unusual persons at the village hall disco.
Obv One and the A of the F were the most glamorous couple in the room by a country mile. Just as well, since most of the others owned all the country miles thereabouts.
No matter, One wouldn't trade a single second spent with the A of the F for a lifetimes country mileage.
The young hooded article delivering the sixties through eighties musical accompaniment to the evening's beer and wine guzzling event wasn't born when any of the music made it's first foray into the wireless and the listening booths of F L Moores where a young Lovely One spent Saturday afternoons. He looked distinctly unimpressed with all the dad dancers and their post menopausal partners.
Unaccustomed to the rituals of our age, he didn't play a slow dance at the end and One was denied melting into the warm embrace of the A of the F so we biffed off outside for a fag instead.
One rather overdid the Latvian laughing water and rather embarrassingly, in the cold light of day, recalls necking it straight from the bottle when One temporarily mislaid One's wine glass.
No matter, given the ragged milkmaids shimmying about, One remained the fabulous, fragrant confection you all know and love, Dear Reader despite One's lack of decorum.
You can take a Lovely One out of Luton, but you can't take Luton out of a Lovely One.
'Get in the car, stupid' hollered the A of the F charmingly.
One did and was transferred to bed via a further couple of pints of Pinot.
Upon waking rather late we discovered that our houseguests had fled without so much as a fond farewell, kiss me arse nor nothing.
Was it the spag boll?
The Latvian laughing water induced behaviour?
But wait, Dear Reader, a furtive tap on the portcullis reveals the pair bearing a dozen red roses and a thank you note for a lovely evening.

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