Night Out

I finally prise my eyelids apart after hearing a noise next to me “Mummy can we get dressed?” “Mummy can I wear a skirt?” “Mum poo!” I turn to see three little faces beaming at me and lazily mutter “Yeah”. They run off excitedly and a few minute later Katie returns “Mummy can I make breakfast?” I turn again and say “Go on then”. Katie leaves and Sarah enters still not dressed (that was too much to ask for) “Mum poo!” “Yeah yeah I say as I drag myself from my warm comfortable bed. My brain suddenly pulses in my head. After a deep sigh my shaky arms push me from the gravitational pull of the mattress. As my weight goes to my feet I wince in pain and promptly sit back on the bed. “What the f***?” I think to myself as I pull up my left foot to check the heel. My feet have a few blisters and then it comes flooding back…

6pm the night before – A knock on the door lets me know Alex (the babysitter) is here. I quickly show her in and begin running through the formalities (as if we were swapping shifts). When I had informed her where to find everything and what time the girls should be in bed I call a taxi and ten minutes later am on my way.

The driver and I make polite conversation opening with: “Why are you going out in this weather – Are you going voluntarily or are you expected out?” I replied with “Ah it’s just a bit of rain”, mentioned it was a friend’s birthday and that I hadn’t seen her in almost three years At that moment, almost at my destination, I remembered I had forgotten the card! Damn!! The driver reassured me my appearance would mean more to her than the card, which I thought was very nice of him to say so.

I pay the driver and bid him a good evening, then turn towards the ferry terminal. The rain is quite heavy so I pull up my coat hood and began walking towards the incoming ferry at a skip. This was half down to excitement and that I wore a new pair of boots with 1 ½ inch heels. Having not worn such footwear in some time it was taking a bit of getting used to. My normal very un-lady like strides were reduced to baby steps with a rapid clink, clink, clink as I realised the ferry was now berthed and awaiting it’s passengers.

For some silly reason I followed my usual routine on the ferries, being…going to the top deck for the view and fresh air. Thankfully the ship on duty tonight was the ‘Spirit of Portsmouth’ so I didn’t have to stand in the rain, which was now rather heavy, and settled myself down in one of the lounges near a window (or porthole – I should know better!) As the ferry disembarked from Gosport and began the reasonably choppy ride across to Portsmouth I suddenly consider how I was going to attempt to descend the stairs in these boots (which I was now regretting wearing tonight).

We touched the dock and I waited for most of the deck to clear before cautiously making my way down the stairs, thankfully without incident. A clumsy walk up the dock and I was soon sitting at the bus stop awaiting the 41. While there a young guy asked me if passive smoking was worse than smoking? I was a little taken aback at first as I wondered what made me look like a smoker, let alone know the answer to his question. So I made up an answer and attempted to articulate it back to him convincingly. He seemed to accept my answer as he turned back to his mate and continued the debate with his new found knowledge. I spotted the number 17 bus pulling into the station and made a retreat before more random questions were asked. I stepped onto the bus hoped to god it was going to commercial road as I asked for the ticket. Yes it was thank goodness! And a few minutes later I was on my way into Portsmouth City centre.

I thanked the bus driver as I stepped off the bus at my stop. Another rapid clumsy trot followed and two seconds later I was standing outside the Trafalgar bar. I entered after another lady as the security guard asked us both for identification. I could have kissed him for thinking I was under 18! But thought that wouldn’t look good on first impressions and showed him my driving licence complete with hideous photograph instead.

The Trafalgar was the like walking into the tardis (bigger on the inside) and I had to stop myself searching for David Tennant and start searching for Tracy instead. It was at this point I remembered again that I haven’t seen Tracy for a few years and realized I would quite likely walk past her without knowing. At that thought I noticed a short blonde girl standing across from the bar with a small group of people. I cautiously began walking toward her hoping that if it wasn’t her I could calmly pretend I was walking past to the free table next to them.

It was her and she recognised me too, so all was good. After quick introductions we made our way to the bar and ordered some drinks.

Many drinks later…

We are wandering the streets looking for a suitable club. What is a suitable club? They are all loud, dark and it’s impossible to get to the bar! None of that really works for me since I was enjoying talking crap, reminiscing over times past and getting drinks on demand without hassle. But you have to try these things before you condemn them.

At some ungodly hour I decide to call it a night and begin the journey home. I approached a taxi and asked the cost to Gun Wharf, then looked in my wallet to see it empty…damn! He points me in the direct of a cash machine but I find myself at the end of the street with no cash machine in sight. I look up and see the lights of spinnaker tower glinting like the stars to navigate by and decide that I will walk the seemingly short distance*.

A few blocks later, I am cursing my boots as I remove them from my sore feet, pull my hood up as the rain gets heavier and continue walking. I have no idea what time is and the navigation lights have now disappeared behind a tall building so I have no idea where I am either? Just then I see the University of Portsmouth and I know at least I am heading in the right direction. A few puddles later to cool my feet, that are now quite raw from walking heavily on the asphalt, and I see Gun Wharf Quay. I half skip and hop hoping I haven’t missed the ferries as I see one berthed. I make my way down the dock, hop onboard and find a seat. A few stares at my torn bare feet make my bundle into my coat more until we reach the Gosport dock. After a quick taxi ride home, apologies to Alex for being late (even though I still had no idea what time it is) I bid her goodnight and crawl up to bed.

A voice snaps me out from the evening’s memories “Mum Poo!” I look down at Sarah, smile a hopefully convincing smile and hobble to her room to fetch a nappy and the wipes…I don’t recommend changing dirty nappies with a mild hangover!!

*My concept of distance and length has never been very good and I also neglected the fact that things may seem closer in the dark and when they are tall buildings!