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That time I played bingo in a stinky cow shed

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Haven’t been feeling mentally great for a while. Don’t know why really.  Cancellations and overdue payments from some swim parents haven’t helped.  The state of the nation in general and the fact that my offspring are growing up & making me feel surplus to requirements, also not conducive to a happy mind.

So, a night out with my sister was in order.  Wasn’t sure what to expect and was slightly nervous, but last night we went to Bongo’s Bingo in Leeds.  It’s been a long while coming.  I’ve talked about going for years, since Jade first went in Manchester a very long time ago.
These days it’s on in cities all over the country, every weekend and sometimes during the week.  ‘Johnny Bingo’ must be sitting at home now in a bath of Buckfast laughing away as he checks his bank balance.


This was not your Saturday night session at Mecca with the jam making brigade that were the mainstay of my Pops’ working life in the bingo industry back in the day.

So Bman dropped us off at Canal Mills in Leeds which smelled a bit like a cow shed TBH.  We got a seat on the end of one of the many crammed-in long tables, because Jade said not to get stuck in the middle of them otherwise we’d have to clamber over everyone to go to the loo or the bar.  We’d paid £8 and this got us a book of 6 games to last the night.




There was a good 2 hours of drinking time before the first game began. Plenty of time for the 200+ Love Island posse to get fully tanked up and start dancing on the benches.  

It was compared by a lively DJ/Caller and ably assisted by glamorous helpers – i.e. 2 young men dressed as a slutty French maid and slutty nurse, who did a lot of dancing, occasionally stripped off inbetween displaying prizes and checking calls.

The prizes, none of which I won, but most of which I coveted, included a life size cardboard cut out of Ross from Friends (won by the boys on the table next to us). Bottles of spirits, cash prizes varying from £40 up to £500! Double ended dildos!! Inflatable Pokemon costumes, giant fluffy unicorns, Henry hoovers, karaoke machines and big boxes of coco pops for people to throw around.

There was much cheering and dancing when anyone won.  False calls greeted with jeering pointing and chants of “you fucking dickhead”.  The young girls next to us had no clue what they were doing and I kept having to explain how they could win.
Certain numbers involved dance interludes, but you had to be lively to get back in the game or you’d miss out on hearing/seeing the numbers come up.  TBH I’m amazed anyone won anything as the night went on and more alcohol was consumed.

Despite fierce concentration on our part, we didn’t win a thing. We needed my brother – he always wins when we play bingo at home with my Pops.  I think he would have enjoyed it actually.  




Not a place for the faint of heart (or liver) or if the prospect of an on stage ‘dance off’ in the event of a tied call fills you with fear.  Be prepared to join in or face sitting there covered in spilled wine and airborne coco pops.  Definitely worth a visit if you can get a ticket and just want to act daft for a couple of hours and may even, if you’re lucky, bag yourself a decent prize.


It made me feel better anyway and was just what I needed.  Let’s do it again sometime.

Ciao Ciao MoFos XX

A little bit meh today…

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Today was my turn for a pre-Christmas existential crisis, possibly sparked by having a dream last night about lying under the duvet on Christmas Eve and hearing Santa delivering presents.  I then awoke to the realization that actually there was no magic in the World and everything was a bit shit.  I sat on the couch in my festival poncho to keep warm after the heating had gone off for the day, watching BBC Newsfeed and wishing I never had to hear the word Brexit ever again.  Was also mega hacked off that daughter number 1’s ‘prom’ dress she wanted (for next June) and asked me to order on Black Friday, had arrived yesterday…but she hates it. (I thought it looked lovely – but what do I know? I’m just her mother).  The retailer won’t refund unless there is actually something wrong with it – no refunds for change of heart. So that’s me taking a £110 bath and stuck with a lovely dress of no use to anyone. Certainly not me – one week away from being 47. I’m already looking forward to being 3 years closer to being able to apply for a 50+ funeral plan.  With my luck, I’ll peg it at 49 and never get my ‘free gift worth £75’.

So yes, I am feeling a bit past it just now.  No matter what colour I do my hair, the ginge shines out. I can go without sweets, cakes and booze for well over a month and still look like a lardy dough face. Smooth FM is no longer the vestige of the golden oldie. It’s now back to back ‘singalong bangers’. And my Childerbeast cringe at pretty much everything I say and do unless it involves paying for something.


Set off too early for the dentist today and ended up wandering without aim around Farsley until they unlocked the doors after their lunch break at the surgery.
Lots of salons around Farsley with lots of ladies getting pampered, trimmed, coiffured and having their nails done.  Not me!  I caught sight of myself in many a shop window and thought I looked like a character from
‘The Road’ in my trackydaks, waterproof coat, odd gloves, hoody up and big chunky scarf.  I might as well have been pushing a shopping trolley full of looted items. 


Mood only improved when one of my young swimmers presented me with a Christmas gift – bless her! And then the Bman text to ask if I wanted a lift home.

Off to bed now to get some sleep and hope that I will be back in the festive spirit tomorrow.

Ciao Ciao XX