Take Me Dancing

Last week there was a fundraiser disco for the town twinning association, a cause we like to support. They've developed links with some hamlet in France, which can only be a good thing. Anyway, it sounded like a evening the kids would enjoy, so we signed up. It was in the village hall, which echoes like a cave.

The first hour was deathly boring. The low-volume music was drowned out by the chatter, thus providing background noise, but not entertainment. I couldn't hear Mr Spanner talking to me clearly through the din, and the kids went and played in the park over the road - even the teenagers.

Eventually, we got a sausage-in-a-bun each and a can of fizzy pop, the tables were pushed back and the disco started for real. The teenagers were slightly embarrassed about dancing in front of all these grown-ups, but they soon found a group their own age to hang against the wall with. The younger three took the opportunity to fling themselves wildly through each others' legs and knee-slide across the dance floor, followed by jumping energetically in a vaguely rhythmic manner.

To paraphrase Four Weddings: When I first saw Mr Spanner on the dance floor, I feared lives would be lost. He dances with a a disregard for those that venture too close. It's like watching Pinocchio on amphetamines. However he was dancing, and given how hard it is to get him to join in with things, this was a real plus. We stayed on the dance floor all evening and it was fun.

I guess we need to go dancing more often.

Wish Upon a Star

I stood outside last night, at midnight, gazing up at the Milky Way, leaning back in the arms of my lover. It really was a moment to treasure. I felt protected and loved. Occasionally a Perseids' meteor streaked overhead, leaving a bright trail across the night.

Physical touch is not something that happens very often or very spontaneously. It tends to be, like everything else in my life, a case of me telling, and Mr Spanner doing what I ask. Last night was special just because I didn't have to tell him to hold me.

I wish for more moments like this.

Following

Do you ever have those days when you just wish you could give instructions and have people follow them? It's simple, chaps, just do what I say, when I say it, and don't argue back.

Yeah, right.

Honey, the car needs some oil in it! Can you sort it out? Oh boy. Never send Mr Spanner off to do a job without written instructions. He tootled off and did the deed, as requested, and I thought no more about it.

So, I'm driving down to the supermarket, when suddenly I can smell burning oil. A dark smoke was seeping out from under the bonnet in a worrying sort of way. I pulled over rapidly and popped the hood.

In the depths of the engine, stinking and black, was the place where the oil goes in (Sorry, I don't know the technical terms!). Balanced, red hot, next to it, was the lid to it. The lid, plus a fair proportion of the engine, had a thin coating of oil, which had been shaken out all over the place during the journey.

I screwed the lid back into place and carried on my chores, surrounded by the smell of burning oil. Naturally, when I mentioned the lack of lid, and loss of oil to Mr Spanner, he went to 'fix' the problem.

He replaced the lost oil by pouring in as much oil as would fit. The engine, now seriously over filled, belched out black smoke so thick that cars following thought it was about to explode. Up one hill, the cars behind had to stop and back off, as the evil-fume-spewing car completely obscured visibility. It was an embarrassment for the best part of a week.

Well, we laugh about it now...