... The first in an occasional series.
Last night I met up with an ex-boyfriend. We went out together years ago and have stayed really good friends. He now has a 9 year old son. When my mum heard I'd been to see him she started waxing all sentimental, saying,
'Ahhh just think Lee, he could have been your little boy!'.
Great, thanks for that mum, just what a 36 year old with a biological clock ticking rapidly toward Armageddon wants to hear...
But too late, by now she was in full Ex Boyfriend Flow... leaning back her eyes went all misty as she said,
'Now, what about that last one...ahhh wasn't he lovely...you'll never be able to replace....'
... her brow became furrowed as she stared perplexed into the distance...
'Er... what's his name again?'
...
...later that same day...
I informed mama of a Native American Flute Workshop I am attending this weekend. (Yes, I really am as mad as Juzzzy says).
She regarded me suspiciously.
'Be careful they don't put none of them drugs in your flute. I've heard about those Native Americans and their peace pipes.'
God luv 'er

) and a bunch of dancers from Majorca... only to emerge, shellshocked and disshevelled, ready to hotfoot it up to Chester to attend my graduation ceremony... after posing for obligatory pictures with fake scroll in hand and dodgy looking hat perched on head, I will continue on with another weekend of gigs, after which I will race down to Southampton on Monday morning, only to race back up to Blackpool on Tuesday...

