THE RED CANDLE – CLAIRE, SHEFFIELD, NEW YEAR’S EVE 1994
You are invited to a New Year’s Eve Fancy Dress Party.
Existing couples will be split up and re-arranged as ‘Famous Couples’.
Tonight Matthew – I would be masquerading as Maid Marian. My Prince of Thieves was someone called John (more average than little). In turn, his wife was dressed as Fergie, resplendent in an electric blue puff ball skirt and ginger wig!
I had taken great care to accurately recreate a historically correct costume, made from a pair of shiny green curtains I’d found in a trunk in our rented house (very Scarlet O’Hara). And I’d spent ages crafting my bow, arrows and quiver from a plastic coat hanger, knitting needles and a washing up bottle – it was a Peter Purvis away from perfection. However, the best bit was my hat. A full on medieval cone affair which I had covered in green and attached my treasured long, green, tie-dyed chiffon scarf to the tip. In full costume I was spectacular. You could have used me as a May-pole!
At the party, I was fuelled by home brew and feeling festive. Taking full advantage of my new persona – an animated, feisty, all action she-girl, I worked the room like Obama at a benefit! The party was mine for the taking. I could have hijacked it and held it hostage.
I settled into a conversation by the fireplace with Lady Penelope (who had come with one of the other Thunderbirds) and The Queen Mother. It was all going very well!
Unfortunately, I had failed to notice the candles on the mantelpiece. Merrily chatting away, I was completely oblivious of the fact that the scarf on my hat had dangled onto the naked flames. Faster than Fryer Tuck on a spit-roast, the flames raced up my melting scarf to the tip of my hat which promptly ignited. Like a candle in the wind, my head was crowned, gloriously with a flaming halo!
Or this is what I’ve been told!
I was in fact was totally unaware that my head was on fire and that I was in mortal peril. The first I knew was when someone, dressed as Wayne Slob came charging towards me with purpose and intent in his eyes. He whipped the hat off my head and ran like a fat man with a Christmas pudding, into the kitchen before plunging it into the sink. He was already being congratulated as a hero before I’d even managed to piece events together.
In retrospect, it was very brave of him. He was after all wearing a shell suit which I gather can be highly flammable. I wouldn’t know having never owned one myself - honest.
I’ve been called ‘hot headed’ many, many times. On this occasion (officially known as ‘the day I did a Michael Jackson’) I feel that the description just might have been justified.
As for Claire – well she witnessed it all, dressed as Waynetta Slob in her own, very fetching green and pink nylon shell suit!
WHERE DO WE GO FROM HERE? IS IT DOWN TO THE LAKE I FEAR? YAA YA YA YA YA YA, YAA YA YA YA YA YA YA YA. AND THEN I CALLED ........
Once the scrum had subsided and the next layer of paper ripped away, two CD’s were left. Written on them in black market pen was KARNEVAL 2005 MUSIK and KARNEVAL 2005 FOTOS ............. Now who could these be from, and why??