Um, well, yes. It’s true, I did. It was actually back in November but life was so busy at the time I didn’t get a chance to blog about it. Enough laughs were being had about it on Facebook amongst my friends to keep my feed very funny indeed.
But the event was so stomach-hurtingly funny, I just have to blog about it. And what better day to write about it than a day when we all need something to make us smile: the day Mr Trump is inaugurated as President of the US. As if mid-January wasn’t bad enough, we have the world’s most disrespectful, brash, divisive quasi-politician becoming the most powerful man in the world. I actually feel mildly sick, tempered with some vague hope that it won’t be as bad as we all fear….(that optimist in me will always win out).
But forget all that. Ready for a laugh? Then I’ll begin.
It was November, a week or so after my birthday and I met up with friends to go and see Sister Act at our local theatre as a belated birthday jamboree. On arrival, a couple of of my friends handed me some lovely little bags of birthday treats which I briefly glanced at as we were in a throng of people arriving at the door. One of them was clearly something from Hotel Chocolat (ooh yes!) and the other was a pretty little cracker shaped box. The words ‘Elderflower Fizz’ caught my eye – the rather smaller “Bath Marbles” did not. It was just a cursory glance, remember. “Ooh,” I thought “fab alcoholic chocolates.” Giving them a big hug and thank you we made our way to the bar and then our seats.
Now, Sister Act is very funny, especially when performed by the amazingly talented and supposedly amateur St Albans Musical Theatre Company. We were all laughing a plenty already at the guys in wigs, the nuns, the songs and the general feel-good fun of the show.
Fast forward to 2nd act after the interval, and I decide its time to open and share those chocolates which I’d meant to do in the interval.
Fumbling down in the dark, I grab the cracker shaped box. It looked easier to open than the Hotel Chocolat box that was sealed up so tightly in cellophane it was the equivalent of chocolate Fort Knox. That’ll wait, I thought.
The ‘cracker’ opened nice and easily, and I dropped one of the pink sherbet looking things into my hand and into my mouth. As it passed my nostrils, I got a whiff of a very strong floral smell. “Crikey, Vanessa must have bought me fancy Parma Violets!” Why I didn’t stop there, I have no idea. Frankly, the thought simply didn’t cross my mind…
A few crunches in and I stopped dead. What was that DISGUSTING taste in my mouth! This was no parma violet flavoured bon bon. Oh god, it was a bath bomb!!!!!!!
I immediately fumbled around for a glass to spit the pink fomenting blob into. As luck would have it, I had not one but two plastic pint glasses, one holding water and the other it was sitting in. Grabbing the empty one I spat into it as quietly as I could (Why oh why did it have to happen during the only quiet serious scene in the entire show – Mother Superior singing out loud about her internal conflicts?!) and knocked back as much water as I could. This went on for the rest of Mother Superior’s sober solo.
My friend sitting to my left, who had been wondering why I hadn’t been sharing out the chocolates (!), gave me a funny look, and as soon as the scene changed I whispered “I think I’ve swallowed a bath bomb!”
That was it. We both totally fell about. We simply could NOT stop laughing. You know that kind that you try to suppress because you’re trying to be quiet? Memories of school assemblies and the like sublimably made us laugh even more. As the news spread down the aisle either side to the rest of my friends (there were only 7 of us, mind) shoulders were shaking and giggles desperately being stifled until the scene ended and we could legitimately burst out laughing as people clapped.
And I had the most awful taste in my mouth. No matter how much water I drank, I couldn’t get rid of it.
When the show finally ended (and it was one of those brilliant finales that had at least one encore) and the lights went up, the carnage was evident: pink powder all over my black tights, boots, the carpet, plastic cups etc. I don’t think the Alban Arena will have me back!
In the morning, when I told my husband what had happened, after recovering from laughing he quipped, “I thought your breathe smelled nice for a change!!!” Yeah, thanks!
Despite it being January, the joke continues to be as strong as ever wherever I go. I’ve been given all manner of different shaped bath bombs, my daughter was given even smaller bath bombs in an old fashioned paper sweet bag (I ask you!) and the friend who gave me the original offending items gave me a Christmas present of some chocolates and another mini bath bomb with notes stuck on helping giving me the guidance of “Eat this” and “Don’t eat this”. I do believe I shall never, ever live this down. 🙂