Coys, cousins and people with new boobs

Our family’s growing. Oh I heard that sharp intake of breath! You can de-gasp, it’s not that!  New cousins are coming out the woodwork lately, and very nice that is.  Steven was thrilled to discover his last month.  Dan the graphic-designer-creative-people-recruitment guy is one of my most amusing – and rudest – Twitter friends, and Vanessa’s Kentish family were just lovely.  But mine beat that.  Jonathan is some sort of body art and piercing specialist in San Diego.  I would comment about this on a personal level, but I’m still in trouble from last week, so I’d better not.  What a cool job though – albeit slightly freakish – but how much more creative can someone be?  (Jonathan meet Dan… Dan meet Jonathan!) And even better, his brother Stephen owns a hat shop in Vegas!!  I lovelovelove Vegas!  Can’t wait to visit him… All that oxymoronic upmarket tacky glitz and fun, where you spin into fantasy microcosms with all you can eat for $9.99. And of course 24, 36, 11/12 split, 17 – in that order.  Wins every time. 

So is blood thicker than water? Of course it’s not.  We may have found some fantastic and crazy new cousins, but friendships make the world go round.  So everyone was a bit surprised at the low turnout at our primary school reunion, although we had a loads of fun anyway.  There were more people from secondary school – and obviously it was great to meet up with them, and always a good night at the KW4.  But why so few people? Last year about 30 showed up and it was brilliant how everyone hit it off – so I was wondering why this year they chose to stay home and watch I’m a Celebrity instead of sharing the wine… Well, Steve Dousie, who went to neither of my schools, gave a reasonably good account: Last year, having not seen most people for over 20 years (there will be no age giveaways in this blog!), everyone wanted to reassure themselves that they look better and are more successful than their old classmates.  Apparently, they were simply curious… who’s gained 30 pounds, had botox, been waxed to death, stripped of varicose veins, new boobs, veneered teeth, pretend hair, false nails, fake eyelashes – and that was just the blokes.  And now they know.  The ones who don’t look so great in comparison don’t want to show themselves again, and those who’ve aged well sit smugly gossiping about those who haven’t and feeling good about themselves.  And those who were just hoping to meet someone for shenanigans behind the bike shed, well – no comment!  And no names… So, no need to meet up again? Some of us obviously disagree, and Sue, Lisa and I (the reunion committee) are always happy for a night in the pub – or afternoon in a nice cake shop – reminiscing with old friends from days gone by. Doesn’t mean we’re looking for new friends, plying for business or being naughty.  Sometimes, Data, a cake is just a cake…

Now, just to clarify something quickly.  As I told my newest Twitter- (and now also Facebook-) friend this week, I once sat next to the Spurs team in an Italian restaurant.  But the truth is, I didn’t recognise them.  Just assumed Mel knew them from the gym or somewhere when she kept staring and batting her eyelashes.  So when I post COYS on my Facebook status it really is just to freak Steven out, not because I’ve been sucked in to football mania. So to show I’m in no way biased, and at the risk of upsetting Gill, Joanne, Gail, Jason, S.P., naked scrabble buddy and new friend Joel, this is for you Deedub – and Danielle (the only two I can think of): “I’m dreaming dreams, I’m scheming schemes, I’m building castles high.  They’re born anew, their days are few, just like a sweet butterfly.”  My dreams are of you following me; don’t burst my bubble… @WeekendWitch.

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