The little baby that my sister in law Fiona and her husband Graeme had in 1991 – not very much further back than yesterday, it feels, is 18. Like millions of others before me, the coming of age of a close relative has really brought home to me how quickly time flies and how there is bugger all we can do about it. I think the traditional solution is to ‘party’ – if that’s acceptable as a verb [I did use an inverted comma].
After a very busy and long day organising a bike race last Saturday, I chilled out and put my feet up. For about seven minutes. Then it was in the shower, re-pack the car, and off up the motorway to County Durham to have some fun with rellies and have a good old knees up in a village hall.
The journey and general concept filled Katie and I with nerves. We were going to try and do a late night with the children. That just doesn’t come onto our middle class, routined comfort radar. The propect of fractuous and tired little children running round under my watch wfilled me with dread. But somehow… just somehow… they seemed to pop an energy tab from somewhere and kick into life. Elsie was the biggest shock of the night. Not just dancing, but pretty much groovin as much as her 18 month old stumpy legs would allow. The dog gone girl had two of the eight legs of the remaining Jackson five. She hard partying [there it goes again] in her soul.
Lily too put in a great performance. The dancefloor was her domain… helped by cousin Olly – on an equally good patch – she did us proud and brought out some great ‘dad dancing’ in me. (When do you actually learn to do that thing with your elbows…? Does someone teach you in your sleep when you become a parent??).
I made two CDs for Jenny too on her request… some dodgy stuff and some good stuff but you can’t fault the seamless DJing.
Have a listen if you’ve got 2 and a half hours to spare… 5 hours’ work and no-one played it. Gutted.
Video below, photos below that…