It’s all a bit full-on at the minute, isn’t it?
If there’s anything I’ve learned in life, it’s this: a bit of laugh always makes everything seem better.
Here’s a piece that I wrote for WesternMorningNews. It’s a sorry tale of green tights and bodypaint. Have a read of (and a chuckle at) my own personal fancy dress nightmare.
“I’ve thought about boarding up our letterbox. Nothing good ever comes through it. Recently we saw the least welcome arrival yet. An invite to a Fancy Dress Party!
“Will it be Fancy Dress or FANCY DRESS?” I muttered.
The former is a party where you turn up in normal clothes but take a token prop – hold a wand and proclaim you’re Harry Potter. The latter is FANCY DRESS where you’ve let the side down if you don’t need a team of dressers to squeeze you into your custom-made outfit.
“I think it’ll be FANCY DRESS,” my girlfriend murmured. I would be attending the party dressed as ‘The Jolly Green Giant’ while my girlfriend would go as ‘Bagpuss’. Don’t ask.
When the big night arrived, my girlfriend uttered the words every reluctant Fancy Dresser dreads: “I’m feeling ill. I think I should stay at home. You should go though.”
Cursing ‘Bagpuss’ under my breath, I walked to the venue…”
For the full column click here.