Raving with baby

My body aches from all the dancing. The tunes are still rattling around my brain. My ears are ringing. My body is full of nasty chemicals. But despite that I have a big smile on my face.

I have been out. I have been partying. Partying at a children’s party organised by the lovely Perform Party people.

The theme was Under The Sea. It was led by pretty, smiling twenty something Rochelle, who in her in a blue and green silk mermaid style dress wouldn’t have looked out of place in an Ibiza nightclub. With patience and a real joi de vivre she took us parents and kids on a musical journey. We played with a coloured parachute (the last time I did that I was at The Big Chill at Shoreditch Town Hall in 1995). And we did a fish dance which wifey and I managed to turn into a nostalgic “big fish, little fish cardboard box” rave dance of yesteryear.

It was great fun. Me and the missus dancing round the gym. Her banging a tambourine and me twisting my melons man as I shook maracas like an insane Bez. I even think baby enjoyed it although most of the time she was looking at herself in the full-length mirror or hiding behind a curtain or watching mum and dad dancing insanely with a “are these really my parents?” quizzical look on her face. 

Afterwards me and the wife ate too much cake and crisps, and drank fizzy drinks as baby tucked into her organic lasagne (we don’t allow baby to eat sugary things).

It was a lovely way to spend Sunday morning. We really must go clubbing more often.