After a ten year hiatus, it was time to go to a tacky wine bar “slash” nightclub in the heart of London for a friend’s birthday. In the past as a young twenty-something going “clubbing” was a regular twice weekly event. Then I met my husband whose idea of a raucous night out was a comedy at the cinema.
Dragging my husband into the club and feeling like an old lady on the town I managed to strut my stuff for over three hours. During this time my husband stood at the sidelines feeling uncomfortable and trying desperately hard not to look at the pole dancers whilst I was chatted to by at least four young males including one who said I reminded him of his teacher. Was that a compliment?
After I felt I had significantly burnt enough calories to make up for Christmas and New Year we dragged ourselves home on by public transport.
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