Sunday, 2 December 2012

Week 65 - Marks and Sparks and drum 'n' bass

There's a point when you suddenly feel grown up.

A freeze frame, when you realise it wasn't recently that you were in the sixth from. Even if you still call the teachers Mr or Mrs so and so instead of their Christian name. 

But it was actually fifteen years ago.

FIFTEEN.

My freeze frame came last Saturday, when in town with Nancy, I went on autopilot and got the lift up to the cafe in M and S to have a pit stop.

I live in the town of a thousand cool cafes. Most of them child friendly. All of them the kind of places that play cool music, have lists upon lists of fruit teas, smell a bit joss sticky and the staff are sickeningly gorgeous, despite a face full of piercings and dreadlocks.

And I go to Marks and middle aged Sparks. And if that wasn't bad enough, I had a pot of tea and a scone.

As Nancy was shredding her ham sandwich and lobbing it all over the floor, I had a total 'punch me in the face with the mid thirties fist' moment.

This wasn't helped by the fact that my only purchase was a sensible bra.

By sensible I mean the kind of thing you definitely wouldn't wear on a first date.

Or second.

If fact you'd probably go for a dump with the bathroom door open in front of your boyfriend before you dragged out this sexless boulder holder.

And to add insult to injury, it's not to compliment a drawer full of saucy undies.


It's instead of.

I've got rid of all my pre Nancy clothes now. I couldn't bear every time I got dressed having to sift though things that, realistically, I was never going to wear again.

In fact, the only person who gets any wear out of my bras is Nancy, who likes to put them on her head.

So, as we sat amongst the table hogging grandmas, foreign exchange students, and mothers who I thought were definitely older than me, (they were probably in my school year), I spotted a familiar face.

A man was sat off with his mum, having a similar afternoon snack.


He was wearing a hoodie and jacket inside, even though it was totally sweltering.

He nodded at me, and as I nodded back, I wracked my brains as to where I knew him from.

And then it hit me.

He ran the drum 'n' bass night I used to go to when I was a student, at a grubby, sweaty ceilinged club. I used to have a bit of a crush on him, and would get a bit loud and show offy when he'd give me a flyer in the street.

He always had good looking women and cool men hanging off his every word.

And here we both were.

Eating scones in Marks and Spencer's.

As I put Nancy in her pram, and walked past him on the way out, I said, louder than necessary to Nancy, 'let's go and find your dad in the record shop.'

I feel a bit prickly skinned embarrassed when thinking about it. As it was clear I was fibbing.

I don't know why I said it.

Well I do. So I didn't feel like the kind of woman who wears bras made out of T shirts and hangs out in M and S.

It'd be just my luck to see him there again next Saturday.

No comments:

Post a Comment