On tour

Standing in front of the mirror one stood there surveying the straining buttons and sausage like rolls with horrified dismay. Tugging the shirt off one tried on the next item with similar results. Crap! Nothing in the suitcase fitted. Maybe the shirt could be worn open over a t-shirt. Some holiday this was going to be. Snatching up a skirt one looked at a tag that read 26" waist. Staring at it dumbly one couldn't work out what was wrong and the incessant noise in the background was making it impossible to think...

His voice cut across the dream, that's your alarm clock...

Rolling over one turned the noise off, just as it was reaching a piercing crescendo, by hitting the snooze button.

Umm that means you have to wake up He persisted...

Hit snooze one mumbled from in the covers, still desperately trying to work out the last time one actually saw 26" printed on a label... we changed to metric 30-40 years ago?

He snuggled up and murmured Happy Birthday baby in one's ear...

It was hardly a great start to a birthday. The subconscious was saying it was time to get back to the gym... a view not shared by the lungs at the moment... though no doubt they will come to the party when the chest/ sinus infection combo goes.... and it was 6am.

Now you may be wondering what one was doing at that hour on this particular day... given that it was a day off. Ahh well that is all His fault.... of course.

He has upped his geek factor by several degrees and not content to keep the shameful things to himself he has infected others. He is like the ultimate ground zero patient in some ways except he spreads his various infections with a childlike enthusiasm for his latest obsession. What is it you may be wondering? Ummm... it's almost too shameful to write it down... peers around furtively and whispers Guitar Hero L

He picked it up at a ridiculously low price and thought it was fun and trotted it off to our Tuesday night vanillas. Who, might one add up, until that point had refrained from becoming infected by looking at it and thinking oh that looks really stupid.  And they were quite safe while holding onto that belief... until they got that blasted guitar in their hands and their faces flushed with childish glee... and they were lost. In fact they liked it so much that they are going to get it for their children... one of whom was woken up by the sound of loud rock music being blasted through his wall.

Turning, their faces alive with a shared experience they tried to get one to join in... Though one remained resolute in the desire to not have what they were having. For years one has held to the belief if it can't be played in a horizontal position then one simply shouldn't be playing it... and that philosophy has always stood one in good stead. Joking one said well if you had the drum kit one might be tempted. 

Her head lifted with interest, drum kit?

Oh well the idea of this is there are drums and lead guitar and base and a microphone for vocals...

You mean we could all play this... like a band?

Yes... though to be honest one is pretty sure that swapping Tuesday night RPGing for Guitar Hero is not a step up the geek ladder. In fact telling people oh we are off to play GH is actually a swift step down.

Now you see in all of this the thought was that one small slave was pretty safe. GH is on its way out, the technology obsolete (the next thing to come will teach you how to actually play a guitar... that's right all you parents... live in fear), the system is virtually unsupported, the equipment in discount bins...

Oh how is one so naive after all these years?

Because He spent some time on the net and came up with a preowned bundle that included virtually all the games, the drums and a couple of extra guitars and a microphone... all of this conveniently located only an hour's drive away.

So there we were on the road at the crack of dawn...

He even managed to find the Metallica set just round the corner for his mini-me.

In fact we dropped it off to him on our way home...

His wife was thrilled... as she said an evening of marking, making dinner and Metallica... what's in this for me? Mind you they are going to have to get it out of their children's hands first... Strangely enough the youngest one, who one thought would have the most trouble with it, turned out to be a natural. We left him dancing away on his imaginary stage, keeping perfect rhythm and hitting every note... the little show pony.

So if you will excuse one small slave drum practise awaits... because otherwise someone will be singing for her supper...

And starving might one add... given that one has no particular talent in that area at all