Glad rags on, make up applied, hair looking sleek – yes the time had come and finally the Funky Fifty Females were going ‘Out Out’!
It had been a long time coming, and it felt very, very strange. We had pre-booked a table at the Coach and Horses and upon arrival it felt quite clinical, almost like we were queuing to get into a nightclub. We showed our ID and were given our table number, then left to our own devices to find said table. It took a while.
Initially we thought it can’t be right, there were only two of us yet the table was for six, but we sat down anyway and realised that perhaps tables for two may now be a thing of the past. On getting the attention of a member of staff, we were informed that to order we should either go the bar or download the app.
So we went to the bar, ordered food and drink and returned to the table. ‘That can’t be right’, a plate with cutlery and condiments had appeared, along with a plastic glass filled with what looked like pink lemonade. We were very confused, a child had clearly decided to take our table during our short absence – however the virtual waiter assured us it was our table and if the ‘child’ came back we were within our rights to defend it. He took the pink lemonade in the plastic glass away. And then returned. It was my large glass of Rose, in a plastic glass. I felt stupid and apologised. I had forgotten one of the new rules for going out out – drinks in plastic glasses.
The food was pleasant enough, but as we chatted about all things single and life in general we started to sweat. Not just tiny beads of sweat, but drips. And with our carefully applied make up quickly disappearing, we took it in turns to use the ‘track and trace’ card to fan ourselves with. It was a warm muggy evening, yet no open windows or air conditioning. Possibly another Covid19 rule?
We stuck it out for a while, but eventually decided to try somewhere else. And whilst at the same time as getting our daily step count in, we tried three further pubs – two of which had long queues of fifteen year olds waiting to be served, and the third, known to be a bit of an ‘old mans’ pub, was closed. But all was not lost. We spotted a park, and with a petrol station nearby, we purchased two cans of Pimms and two cans of lemonade. We didn’t go far into the park as a result of heel blisters, but we did find a nice pleasant spot to sit down. Well at least it was pleasant until we were attacked by swarms of flying ants! Enough was enough, and so along with our Pimms and lemonade, we took ourselves off to a comfortable home sofa and checked out the latest Boomble offerings.
We no longer cared about our smudged make up, ‘trying to get drunk’ fifteen year olds, or flying ants. We laughed so much we thought the neighbours may complain, but they didn’t and to be honest, we didn’t care. Ron, 62, from Redhill with boobs bigger than mine, no I certainly do not want to have ‘hard core sex’ with you. Not now, not ever, goodbye.