Mum’s Tennis Friends

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Over the weekend, Kristy and I went to see one of her old school friends’ husband play in a band. The band’s name is “Mum’s Tennis Friends”. Those last couple of sentences probably make perfect sense, however, if not structured in that way… or if some details are not made obvious, this simple concept can be quite confusing. Here’s what I mean…

Last week I came home from work and Kristy asks me if we have anything planned for Saturday night. I reply with “I don’t think so… why?”. She then proceeds to ask “In that case, do you want to go and see Mum’s Tennis Friends play?”.

Coincidentally, Kristy’s Mum does happen to play tennis and I had no idea a band called “Mum’s Tennis Friends” even existed, so I looked a little puzzled as to why we would want to go and watch Kristy’s Mum play tennis with a bunch of her friends on Saturday night… but I figured there must be a reason for the invite, so I respond “Um… ok… sure…. where are they playing?”

Kristy replies “At the Coronation Hotel”. Now I’m baffled. Not only am I confused as to why we’d want to spend our Saturday evening watching a bunch of old ladies play tennis, but now I have to process the fact that this whole crazy event would be taking place in a rough Ipswich pub that’s a few doors down from a gun shop and an adult store (which both scarily occupy adjoining premises… but hey, that’s Ipswich for you).

Then if my brain wasn’t broken enough by this stage, Kristy then throws in the comment “Madonna’s husband plays with them, so a few of my old school friends are going along and thought it might be fun to rock-out with them”.

This must have been the point that my head exploded and I was left dumbfounded with a permanent ‘brain freeze’ expression stuck on my face.

Kristy, noticing my mental agony, says “what’s wrong – don’t you want to go?”

So I try and explain that I have no idea of what’s going on – why on earth does the husband of one of Kristy’s old school friends play tennis in pubs with Kristy’s Mum and a bunch of her friends on Saturday nights and how has this mixed group of amateur athletes managed to gain a cult following of 30-year-old women who all went to school together?!?

The next 10 minutes was filled with Kristy explaining that they’re a band and after a couple of pain-killers and a lie-down, I’m back on track and finally understand what just transpired.

So, Saturday afternoon rolls around and we figure that since the band doesn’t start until 7pm and it’s local, we’d have a few drinks before the gig starts… rock-up fashionably late and party-on. So I have a couple of beers… play some PS3 while Kristy gets ready… have a shower… a few more beers… I get ready… another couple of beers and we leave. I’m feeling a bit pissy already and the night technically hasn’t begun.

We arrive thinking everyone would be there already – but no – it was just us and a dishevelled looking crowd. More beer is required.

Now, I should also probably point-out that, as a wimpy, weak, slightly pudgy geek who was picked-on a little through-out school and over the years has been mistaken for a homosexual on more than one occasion… I’ve developed this fairly unfounded and quite unnatural paranoia that whenever I’m in a large group of blokey blokes and I don’t have suitable “backup”, I fear that I’ll get into a fight… or more accurately, get bashed-up.

So given the surroundings, I was feeling a bit nervous. Fortunately, Kristy’s friends turn-up, we start chatting and all is good… Until one of the girls’ husbands starts spear tackling guys randomly. I’m nervous again… but then we start doing shots of tequila and the nerves disappear… as does the feeling in my legs. The pub is also too tough to stock salt or lemons, so we’re doing straight shots of tequila with nothing but the bitter flavour of beer to wash down the sharp after-taste.

By this stage, I’ve forgotten that I’m scared of anything – probably because even if someone did punch me, I probably wouldn’t feel it. But I’m also so drunk that remaining upright is a challenge and end-up deciding it’s probably best if I go home and leave the girls to finish the night without me. And after all that, I don’t even think I saw Mum’s Tennis Friends play.

On Sunday I woke-up and felt worse than I have done in ages. Kristy took Caleb to SeaWorld whereas I just slept, ate (when I could finally stomach food again at some point that afternoon) and then spent the rest of the day randomly watching the lights on the tv flicker at me and played some more PS3.

Despite the pain felt throughout Sunday (and even a little bit on Monday) and the fact that my Saturday night was a little anti-climatic since I didn’t even get to see the band play – it was actually quite a good weekend.

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