comrades blog

I only had six hours notice to get ready to go out and party with my friends...six whole hours..? would I have time enough to tend to all my ablutions..erm , well maybe if I prioritised my tasks.  I did a quick body check.  Do I need a brazilian for tonight..erm well no..I can put that task on the back burner for now,  saving the rain forest would give me more time to do the necessities .,  Most important would be, to ferret out an outfit that nobody has seen in the passed ten years, I might have to enter unknown territory - the Back Bedroom !  What joy..my school friends and myself going out to the local club, which I haven't been inside there since 75.  Marlon Brando was in there . he was on the big screen making me an offer I couldn't refuse..and I was fifteen, I saw Sonny giving somebody a pasting....it seems infidelity at weddings is abundant in our society..and hence my dark side was infused.  I have myself done a bit of wallpapering in my time.  Never did it lead to bloodshed , yet.
I am driving and picking my friends up, so we don't have to walk, which means I will only drink lemonade .  It looked like bad weather, bearing in mind we are only getting out of the car and into the club., my friend decided she needed her Kagoule so she didn't get wet.  Now, I am known for being Mrs Cautious I hardly expected torrential rain in the five second dash from the car to the club door and I am without outside appropriate garments...I was willing to risk one or two spots on my alabaster counterpane.  It wouldn't spoil the contents for sure.  
There was a commitee man on the door, who asked the inevitable question.
" are you members ?, if you are not members you need to be signed in "
" Yes, I'm a member"  a card lunged between my ribs, Ellen had the necesarries for our nights enjoyment.
" I'm affiliated"  I said
" are you ?"...his glasses mini skipped an eyebrow ..
" whats that ?  I want to be affiliated " said an innocent bistander.
" Are you Affiliated " ? he said.." Are you ?"
"NO..I just like the word "...was not the right answer..
"what's bloody affiliated ?"  Ellen said
" If I am a member of another working mens club, you get the same benefits if visiting another similar branch"   being affiliated sounds sort of official..it's like the word inaugerel ..what a mouth full. It's worth being affiliated if you like to go to different clubs,
I spied a bandit in the foyer..don't move my little beauty, I will be back to ambush you in the interval.
So we swung open the doors of the saloon,  and entered in.  The grannies from out of town..but were not from out of town, we were all born and bred here , this town belongs to us.  Me, dressed in my black bra, covered with a body stocking, and then a net overlay, a tiered skirt, black that wraps around..tight and my lesbian shoes.  Lesbian shoes are not described to be insulting, they are black brogue type low heel very comfortable shoes, we used to wear them to school in the sixties, plain black shoes that lace up, perfect for dancing in, and they promote a walk like a farmer, not the walk of a pig in high heels, that displace your hips so the tops of your thighs swish together.  I'm sure men like this, but not me..I dont want thrashing thighs..I want farmers legs in wellies. that are comfortable.  My friend Jean had a mini dress on, with six inch heels, and looked fabulously chiq.  She always did, she has never altered in my eyes.  Men adore her, and if they don't it's their loss, she is a charecter on her own..she is Jean.  My other childhood friend Ellen dressed in sophisticated black, we are the three witches of the Comrades in Arms. 
After a lot of debating we picked the front table..the occupant had to move to allow us to sit here.  I was amused and astonished to find, setled at my feet, a huge bucket that reached knee high.  Picking it up and putting it on the table raised a lot of stares from regular punters.
" what's this ? as sick bucket ?"  I laughed
" no , it's to put your bingo tickets in !"
" cool...you have bingo...take me to your leader"
I purchase a book of six tickets, being a pro bingo dabber, I was used to a fast pace.  I don't play bingo on a regular basis..but when duty calls I respond.  Tonight was not my lucky night, I did not win... but taking part, with Jean constantly ad-libbing was an achievement.  
The club was getting busier and the seats were filling up, a group of younger lads sat on the ajoining table, I bet they thought they were out with their mams.  When the group came on, Jean got up to dance, in the first session.  She got up and danced, and so did !, and a few others, slinging our bodies across the strobe lighting to fifties ditties , Saturday night at the Movies, who cares what picture you see...likewise who cares who is dancing..it was us having a laugh.  It was at this point that the 'man who had drunk to much' started to be annoying.  He wanted to dance with us,  which we did to be polite..then did the square dance manouver and danced in the oposite direction.  There is some procedure in dancing, some procedure and etiquete that need to be observed.  You must not enter my dancing space, unless invited and the length of your stay is wholly dictated by me.   Dancing with me does not mean you can touch or manouvre me in any way.  Don't touch me, dancing is like swimming, don't touch me in full swing or I will knock you out.  When a truly un danceable tune came on, we sat down. Truly indanceable tunes are sometimes the best tunes to dance to, how do you dance to " Your Sex is On Fire"..? it's like fast little beats up to a long chorus where all you can do is imitate the flame of a fire with your extended arms ( without losing your bra)  I danced to that marking time till the beat came on I liked.  Sitting down didn't escape the man who had partaken, he did not give up, he thought it was funny to reverberate the letter R to our table.  I  didn't get the joke.  These men, with their nostalgic beer goggles at half mast..think we have not seen it all before..think we are virgins to the heckling of men, reminiscent at town night clubs in youth where nobody was interested in you, until an hour before the club shut.  You had to fight them off in their droves.  Too tight to buy you a drink earlier, but quick to jump in before you turned into a pumpkin.  It was like a scene from Uncle Buck in the Bowling Alley, with the smart arsed jerk trying to get off with his niece.  We are not impressed, nothing impresses me so don't bother.
An Irish jig tune came on, boy was I tempted.  There was a girl merrily dancing to herself, but her hands were wrong.  Irish dance like they guard their life savings in their pockets..they never raise their arms, only their feet go ten to the dozen in the air to knock out their opponent.  You can simulate this, just the same as Greek dancing, if you ever watch them closely it looks like they are jumping all over the shop, but it's a clever slight of foot, or hand rather, they just fall onto the other foot and it looks like they leap.  I would love to Zorba with a Greek...but my lot is but to Zorba with Geeks!  with Irish dancing you just bevi up and down flicking your feet and stamping with one or two kicks and stomps.  I did this in Benedorm last year half kalied in a bar and I was the Irish Queen for a night.  I got a rousing applause, and I made the whole damn thing up.  It is easy to fool the inebriated ,  I noticed another girl, with knee high boots having a whale of the time on the dance floor.  My friend, me and the whole of the room were astonished by her energetic battering of the parquet.  She was well away with the steppe lads like a mini kalashnikof  bang bang bang...on and a half steps every second, like a vibrating pneumatic drill cracking concrete, bless that girl she was having a ball.  I noticed her partner joined her, at the end of the night to dance..and he too had the same affliction.  Obviously he waited for the alcoholic thrust to get him on the floor before closing.
There was a tall boy their dancing, he danced like he was in the Royal Ballet.  I watched him, he was a people watcher.  He watched girls dancing., then honed in on them..just for dancing's sake, good luck to him he was enjoying the night.  He honed in on me..did the once over..and I accepted the challenge.  We did dirty dancing on the dance floor, however he couldnt throw me in the air and catch me, he was too crap at that, I thought he wanted to make me look a prat, but I managed that all on my own. Jean pulled his trousers up, as they were at a fashionable height of mid buttock..in the process her mini skirt flipped up and a full throng view could been seen from outer space, totally oblivious to Jean, but the guy coming back with a tray of pints arrested.
in the interval we noticed the man who drank to much, was fast aleep.  His mate had his feet up on the table snoring away, for devilment we posed with them, for pictures. It looked like we were a group and the men had nodded off..pay back is sweet for dancing harrassment.
Several people commented on my dress, which I had knocked together out of oddments.  It pays to be unique.  I look forward to next month when this group return as its going to be a good venue for a bloody good laugh.