Its Saturday and I wake to find my partner showering so I down the drink she brought me and then try to get through my getting up rituals. They go okay including acceptable vitals, I even manage to book the Tesco deliver slot for Monday and fill a basket of semi random food stuffs. However the major task of the morning after a toast breakfast is to pack for the night away at Coombe Abbey Hotel where my partner and I are having a murder mystery evening. Murder followed by disco and then we stay over night. I start to look at my wardrobe. My first choice of outfit has a fly button missing so I spend an age locating the spare button and sewing it on only to find out the trousers are too tight. As I go through my trouser collection all of the trousers that I deem “smart ” prove impossible to get into. Even the ironically hideous Rupert Bear golf trousers do not fit. The only things that fit are jeans, hippy pants and joggers, I am so fucking depressed, I’ve turned into a middle class Wayne and Wannetta look alike. The combination of hormone drugs and inability to train has at last made a significant impact. My jackets and blazers I can still get on, but my tits are too big to get them done up. I eventually pack my overnight holdall with a random selection of wearables and decide to travel in jeans and T shirt. The effort of all this has taken its toll so I resort to the sofa and the capture of the moment on the blog. I suppose I will be buying the next waist size up again on my next shopping trip on the net. I pack my traveling office and wonder about a Demis Roussos outfit or a cut down Bell tent. It appears I can get old and infirmed semi gracefully but getting fat enrages me. I suck it up and try to suck it in and promise myself to be sociable for the rest of the day. It seems my blog is not only for family and friends but is cathartic for me too. Lunch calls before the traveling.
The drive to the hotel went really well without hitch. Reception was a bit slow but they had a lot of events going on. The room was resplendent with a canopied bed and period type bathroom. I needed to rest after the drive and order cheese and crackers as a late afternoon nibble. My partner and I passed the time till it was time to get ready for the evening entertainment. I now have a new fashion look. Hippy pants worn under a formal black shirt with Vivienne Westwood cuff links under a sky blue striped blazer with a mid back length plait. It was the only combination of clothes that was anywhere near comfortable.
At the appointed time we went to the venue to find that we has had been misinformed about the time so we sat for awhile in one of the hotel lounges. When it seemed the right time to go we went to the “Courtroom” and were checked in to the bar areas where everyone was drinking and chatting. The noise was horrendous. People in a largish group with drink all determined to have fun conversations become unbearably loud. It was purgatory. The event got under way late so I stood for 45 minutes in this cacophony of humanity from which there was no respite apart from trips to the toilet that was an oasis of quiet. I know now why people wear ear loops.
The actual meal was good, the company on table 7 were very pleasant and the murder mystery itself was entertaining. I got the murderer wrong, it was the wife, who was basically a psychopath who did it for the kicks, revenge and the money. However it was all good fun. Once over I and my partner retreated to our room. I was near spoonless and needed to rest, take my meds and try to get some sleep. I realise how I need to select my treats carefully and how much not being able to exercise has affected me, I am shocked at my decline and realise how difficult it must be for people to be around me, with my need to rest so much, I am aware that I am no fun anymore. I must find new ways to fight, I am so far away from myself. At least this trip has taught me that.
