Yesterday morning Mrs Beckett reminded me that we had tickets to attend a charity function at the local primary school - a “Mexican” night. A nearby restaurant was providing the food, the local brewery providing the majority of the beer, and a hundred or so parents providing themselves.
It occurred to me while getting ready last night that it was the first time we had been out togetherin months.
Strings had been pulled earlier in the week to secure a babysitter for the children (one of the wonderful daughters of our equally wonderful dance teacher friend), old sheets had been “modified” to turn them into poncho’s, and a comedy sombrero had been sourced from somewhere for me to wear. W wore a fetching “authentic” mexican ensemble, mostly sourced from E-Bay.
In reality I just looked like a huge version of Woody from toy story. This of course caused hilarity once I mentioned it because everybody agreed. All I had missing was cowboy boots with “Andy” written on the bottom of them.
I can’t remember enjoying a night out more. That’s either a symptom of not getting out much, or it just was a fun night. Great company, great food, great drinks, and the hours just vanished. Before we knew it, the clock was ticking towards midnight, and we knew our time was drawing short.
The mystery this morning is how I don’t have a raging hangover. I drank at least 4 pints of IPA, and two bottles of Corona (I would have drunk it all night, had they not run out in the first half hour!). Perhaps Mexican food has magical alcohol absorbing abilities?