Da Ya Think I'm Sexy?

The older I get, the harder its becoming to live la vida loca on a school night, and still be a relatively well functioning person the next day. I miss those days when I could party all night long and still make it to work the next morning without looking like I'd been dragged through a dumpster. Regardless, there are times when there is no choice but to put on the big girl panties, bite the bullet and carpe the diem. Whoa, cliche overload. Anyhoo, last night I toddled off to see old-school rocker/crooner Rod Stewart, who was playing at Newlands' Sahara Park. Sure, he's a tad long in the tooth and more my parents' kind of taste, but nonetheless it was a great show.

We sat in the cheap seats. (Read: all the way in the very back.) But that was actually okay. Of course, he played all the old stuff, which was fab. There was lots of singing, dancing, arm-waving and concerty-kinda stuff going on, and by the time the Rodster packed up his stuff and left, we were pretty worn out. We also found ourselves with an insanely large bunch of Irishmen (who are in Cape Town for some or other house-building charity thing). Seriously, there were hundreds of them! And in true Irish style, they were all incredibly festive. And by festive, I mean loud. We had loads of laughs with them (very friendly bunch) and when Rod wasn't singing, the Irish were. I kid you not: it was like being at a football match! 'Danny Boy'... 'It's a long way to Tipperary'... all being belted out at top volume. Luckily, having folks who are both Glaswegians meant I knew the words to some of the songs and so I merrily joined in for a sing-song. Ah, good fun!

Then it was off to Kelvin Grove for a nightcap or two while we waited for the post-concert traffic to clear. Hence, it was a rather late night - not helped by the fact that they closed the gate on the other side of a school field we had to cross to get to the car. I tried to scale the fence but only got half way over. It was quite a drop and so changed my mind and went back the way I came. Needless to say, my 'dismount' was less than ladylike and today I have a couple of whopper bruises as a reminder. Live and learn.

Anyway, I crawled into bed at about 1.30 this morning and when the alarm went off after what felt like very little sleep, I wanted to cry. The powers-that-be at work knew that I was off to a concert, and so calling in sick would've been a little too obvious. Awoooo... I'm really looking forward to home time. I think I may eat dinner in bed. Hey, don't judge me. It's not very nice.