Prancing around my flat, in my bedtime granny pants bigger than my torso, putting on quite the attractive display to my boyfriend, I realise I spend far too many evenings of my early twenties wearing such pants. So much so to the point that in one granny pant episode, my boyfriend actually called me ‘The ultimate granny’.
Pants aside – because we all know these are the closest thing you can get to real comfort after you stop wearing nappies – I do think the granny analogy delves a little deeper…
Not that I haven’t known for some time now, but when you’re likely the only one in a 1000-person capacity music hall that’s sitting down wondering why we can’t just finish the game of Bingo, while everyone reaches for the stars to S Club 7; is probably a pretty strong recent representation of why I really am ‘The ultimate granny’.
Aside from making me re-live the time in my youth that I thought it might actually be a good idea to attend dance classes (I think I survived two), everyone dancing to S Club 7 at Bongo’s Bingo last weekend, just highlighted my boring granny facade.
Now don’t get me wrong, the evening was pretty hilarious. Not that it probably showed on my somewhat forlorn face because I really just wanted to play Bingo and win the giant fluffy unicorn teddy that was up for grabs. It was the next best prize draw after the David Schwimmer cut out was won. But surely, I can’t have been the only one in the venue that thought the Coco Pops being thrown through the crowd to ‘I’m in Love with the Coco’, would have been much better siting in a nice bowl with milk, in front of the TV at home, wrapped in a dressing gown. No?
To be honest with you, Hermit or Peacock alike, Bongo’s Bingo is definitely worth a visit. Give me a good year or so to recover from the out-of-comfort-zone trauma and I would almost certainly go again. Amidst the hilarity of music choices and the resounding Irish accent you’re made to adopt to the number 33 that even after six rounds still has people Irish dancing, I’m actually really glad I went.
Some people just want to knock back the Kahlua to quench their thirst every Thursday, but I long ago accepted that I was far more excited by the idea of feeling sufficiently hydrated with water by the end of my day and that I’d outcompeted my Hydrate Tracker bottle once again.
For others, you might think you know what is the best kind of fun in the bedroom, but when you’re me, you’ll soon figure the biggest kick comes from setting your alarm and realising you’re still in the 8-hour figure of sleeping hours. That’s just the pillows asking for a smug smile to be buried in them. But in all seriousness, let’s not forget the real bedroom excitement… Looking at the laundry bin and seeing that there isn’t one item of clothing left in there.
To some it might seem that my life may well be very full of boring excitement, but I am simply just a very homely person, slightly governed by routine but happy in my slightly boring, slightly sad, little bubble. A nice coffee shop where the sound system is at a bearable decibel for a small fly, where I don’t have to wave around glowsticks and floss my way to impropriety, that will do just fine.
… And you’re welcome for a granny pants party anytime.