Circus of Horrors

I had an evening out at the theatre yesterday. My husband and I went to see London After Midnight from  The Circus of Horrors, a show inspired by the 1927 'lost' film of the same name from director Tod Browning of Freaks fame.

I loved being immersed in the atmosphere created by dramatic gothic costumes and make up, colourful hair, tattoos and piercings... and that was just the audience!

The story starts in London at the time of the plague through to the Great Fire and incorporates the odd grizzly murder. The story is really a thin framework upon which was hung a lavish spectacle of acrobatics, stunts and illusions with a distinctly macabre theme. There was a sprinkling of nudity and sexy writhing that kept my husband interested and grotesquely shocking moments that had me cringing with a mix of disgust, intrigue and pure delight in equal measures (memorably a dwarf attaching a vacuum cleaner nozzle  to his penis and dragging said vacuum cleaner around the stage with the power of suction)

My favourite characters were fantastically sinister doll like twins that did an aerial silk performance (the fabric was blood spattered of course). The strength, precision and beauty was breathtaking. I loved that our seats were close enough to the stage for me to notice that one of the performers had a tear in her tan tights. Close enough to see every twist and turn they made of the ribbons around their bodies before relying on that combination to bring them to a halt as they allowed themselves to unwind and fall. If I were to run away and join the circus (highly unlikely at my age!) I would want to train in this discipline. I can close my eyes and imagine myself swirling and twirling to the oohs and aahs of appreciative onlookers. The reality would no doubt be much less graceful and considerably more painful!

The whole show was set to the loud rock music of Dr Haze and his band. I have to admit that it gave me a bit of headache (possibly the downside of having seats close enough to the stage to see holes in hosiery) but I had a wonderful nostalgic moment when they performed a reworking of The Sweet's song Hellraiser.

Hellraiser was a hit in 1973. I would have been 9 years old. I remember buying the 7" single to go with my other favourite record by the same band Blockbuster. I carefully wrote my name on the sleeves. I was madly in love with Steve priest, the bass guitarist. Those singles were treasured possessions which I still own. And I can still sing along to all the words.... which I did! I am having a strong desire right now to search through my vinyl and power up the turntable.

After the performance we shared a bag of chips (no ketchup!) before driving home to relieve the babysitters from duty.

I am so grateful that my husband indulges my passion for the macabre. I can't imagine that going to see a show like this would be high on his wish list. However, as much as I enjoyed indulging his passion by going to see Brighton and Hove Albion playing at home, I think he did take a certain amount of pleasure from it (if only on account of the scantily clad females).

Me (with stupid expression) meeting the wonderfully camp vampire from Circus of Horrors (that's me on the left!)

My top 5 Worst Dates - Listography

1. My best friend didn't have much luck with men so when she had the chance of going out with a guy she really fancied but needed another girl to go along because he had his mate with him, she begged me to go. How bad could a blind date be? It might actually be fun.

I was not attracted to my date at all but tried to be polite and interested whilst my friend had her tongue further down her man's throat than I thought medically possible.

My date was keen to tell me all about the tattoo that he was having done over his entire back. It was so big that it had to be done and stages and the first stage was completed and healing. He was quick to whip his shirt off in the pub to reveal  his swollen, scabby, infected inked skin with testosterone pumped pride. It was grotesque.

I didn't have the pleasure of admiring the finished tattoo. After he drove me home and I used my best evasive moves to avoid the goodnight grope, I never saw him again.

2. I was chatted up in the Student Union swimming pool once. The guy had gorgeous blue eyes and dark hair and looked pleasantly muscular from what I could see through the water. We swam, we trod water as we chatted. He was the president of the University Photographic Society and as I had recently purchased my first SLR camera, I found him very interesting. He offered to show me around his darkroom.

I was all of a flutter as I primped and preened in the swimming pool changing rooms knowing that he would be waiting outside for me.

At first, I thought I'd been stood up but then he called my name to get my attention. My eyes had completely failed to register his presence because he was a tiny little man. At 5' 9" I absolutely towered over him. The swimming pool had disguised the fact that I was tall and he was short and I think we were both a little embarrassed.

I took an uncomfortable speed tour of the dark room and changed my mind about joining the Photographic Society.

3. In the time that I affectionately refer to as 'between husbands',  I dabbled with internet dating. One chap that I met up with had described himself as 5' 10" but later explained that since he had stopped playing rugby he had shrunk 3 inches. His lack of stature was less of a problem than the fact that within minutes he wanted me to live with him in an eco house in the forest and have his babies. It was all a bit desperate.

4. Another of my internet dates turned out to be not quite what I was expecting. Given that it was a non-smoking, vegetarian dating site, it was a bit of a shock when he ordered steak and started rolling his own.  In his defence, he had found out about the site from an advert in an Outdoor Pursuits publication that he subscribed to and he was a fit outdoorsy type. We got on really well for a while but never well enough for me to feel comfortable about introducing my children to him. When it stopped being fun I sent him a text to end the relationship  -  that was before I found out that text dumping was a social faux pas.

5. I didn't ever really 'date' my first husband - we knew each other because we shared a student house and just sort of drifted into a troubled relationship in much the same way as we drifted into a troubled marriage. Our honeymoon sums it up. Our actual wedding was all done on the cheap as we were very short of money but we pushed the boat out for a honeymoon in Paris. Fairly shortly after arriving in arguably the most romantic city in the world, he trod in dog sh*t. I laughed. He didn't find it funny. End of honeymoon!

For more Worst Dates visit the  Listography Linky at guest host Typecast

An Idea is Born: The A-Z of Dates

I love being a mum to my two littles ones - having them depend on me and watching them grow and develop. However, there is also something so special about the very different role of being a mum to my grown up children - enjoying them as adults and seeing their independent lives taking unexpected twists and turns.

I felt very honoured to have my two oldest girls accompany me on a girlie night out recently. We put on our make up and high heels and tottered off to our local Wetherspoon. The plan was to sample some of their Beer and Cider Festival guest beverages but after one round of Cider Raspberry Twist, they cajoled me into sharing a pitcher of some sickly tasting cocktail with an exotic sounding name.

It was lovely spending time with them and a chance conversation with Liberty has lead to an exciting idea.

When lovers become parents, everything changes. Not in a bad way. Focus shifts from the couple to the child but if you are not careful, the new focus threatens to become all consuming. I love spending time with my family but I don't want to neglect the special relationship I have with my husband. Like all things, it needs to be looked after if it is to thrive.

My daughter has yet to become a parent but she is aware that sometimes it is easy to take her relationship for granted and let the pressures of life get in the way of their enjoyment of their time together as a couple. She was talking about a scheme that one of her work colleagues is trialling in order to put the excitement and fun back into their relationship. The scheme involves a regular themed Date Night based on the letters of the alphabet, starting with A and working as simply or elaborately through to Z as budget, time and imagination permits. For example, the lady in this particular partnership organised Bed and Breakfast in Betsy-co-ed for a B Date. Her less imaginative partner had taken her for A meal!

I thought it was a great idea. I know that our Date Night frequency is likely to be sporadic but we do have the rest of our lives to make it all the way to Z.

Over the sickly cocktail, we came up with as many options as we could for an "A Date" from the romantic to the absurd. It was single Ivy who came up with idea of An Aerial Adventure and that was the example we used to pitch the idea to our partners. They both jumped on board and booking the Aerial Adventure will mark the start of our A-Z of Dates.

I am really looking forward, not just to our "A" date, but to the challenge of coming up with something special for every letter of the alphabet.