Yesterday I bit the bullet and headed to a bar. I’ve avoided them like the plague (not that I’ve ever done much plague avoidance) since I’ve been pregnant, because I’m not one of those people that can sit and have fun while everyone around me gets boozed. But it was a fantastic day, a new garden bar had opened in town, and one of my best friends was celebrating a good time in the Auckland Marathon. The plan was to have a few drinks until it got dark and then go and let off fireworks as it’s Guy Fawkes Day on Wednesday.

Fireworks! I love love love fireworks!

When we got there, everyone else was well on the road to inebriation. I ordered a delicious soda water and wedged myself behind a table. I actually had quite a good time for a couple of hours. I was so proud of myself. I put up with the constant regaling to strangers of how the Hawk used to be the biggest drinker in the wo-o-o-rld and now look at her… and I put up with all the patting and kissing of the not-yet-born babies, and with the  comments on how it’s amazing that I actually look good fat (is that a compliment?) and I found it hugely entertaining when someone accidentally knocked an entire bottle of champagne into someone else’s handbag.

But it started to get a bit boring when people wanted me to dance. What the hell were they thinking? I can hardly walk now. Besides that, no one really wants to watch a pregnant woman dance. And if they do, I’m not sure that they’re the kind of person that I should be dancing in front of. I couldn’t dance before I was pregnant and I’m fairly certain that things haven’t improved.

So I didn’t make it until dark. It was hugely disappointing to everyone as I am our pyrotechnician. The others think of ridiculous things to do with fireworks and I do them. Apparently they were very concerned about the fact that the babies weren’t going to be introduced to my bad behaviour in utero, because when I got home I found my handbag stuffed full of fireworks.

I let them off on the front lawn last night. I still love fireworks, but it’s just not the same without an audience.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s