DO YOU REALLY LIKE IT? WE’RE LOVIN IT, LOVIN IT, LOVIN IT…..

When one of your kids utters those immortal lines, “for God’s sake Mum, you’re so embarrassing, you’re not 15!”,  you just know you’ve had a really good time and as I reflect on the night that the gorgeous Mrs W introduced me to Dubsmash, it still makes me laugh. Quite honestly ladies, this phenomenon should be prescribed on the NHS. It should be a part of every girls night out or even better, a spontaneous girls night in fueled, of course, by a  sip or two of Prosecco.

For those of  you unfortunate enough not to have discovered  it yet, obviously because “you are far too old“, Dubsmash is the app that brings the age old art of  miming with a hairbrush in the bedroom mirror straight into the 21st century. What’s fab about it is you can mime by yourself and annoy your friends,( my little sister thinks I’m funny), or what is much more fun is to gather some pals, then record, trash, re-record, trash, re-record etc etc to your hearts content  until something resembling perfection, or more usually, complete carnage is achieved. Then you can save your efforts and bore your friends senseless with them on facebook. And trust me, it is seriously funny watching them back. I, for example, had no idea I was such a nodding dog and I plead guilty  to complete over-characterisation whereas Vikki was the expert, the glam coordinated one, the Posh Spice of the group assisted by Victoria, who managed to look cool, beautiful and serene despite knowing absolutely none of the words.

Seriously though, if anyone had told me that an app had the capability of entertaining three grown women for five hours and reduce them to tears of giggling hysteria, I would never have believed you, but it did and for that I am eternally grateful. I am also grateful that our creative offerings ranging from DJ Pied Piper, Baccara and The Spice Girls to Doris Day, Tammy Wynette and dodgy lines about beautiful lips from Abigail’s Party, performed prone on the sofa by this point,  can be saved and churned out again and again and again  to make us giggle once more. Luckily for you, dear reader, I can’t seem to upload our productions, which is  mercifully a very, very good thing.

Yes, my child, I do realise that I am, in fact, 52, but for five hilarious hours I was 15 again and back in my bedroom, and as far as I am concerned, there is nothing wrong but absolutely everything right with that.

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Relight my fire!

The Hotel Panorama is once again calm this morning as the hormonal frenzy which descended upon Charlie’s Bar last night slowly dissipates and wafts gently out over the clear Mediterranean water. Wives have reluctantly returned to the reliable comfort of their husbands and in return husbands have quietly accepted that there is no way that they can compete. Life can be cruel sometimes. As I lay here on my sunbed trying to write, having rejected the call to join in the Daily Puzzle or a game of Boules, conversations are awash with tales and glorious memories….”this is a good photo of you Trace, he looks bloody gorgeous and you can’t see your big belly….”

The exodus from The Panorama last night was something to behold as wave after wave of excitable, perfumed females giggled and wiggled their way to the doors of Charlie’s Bar and as I watched from the comfort of the cocktail bar, the atmosphere began to sparkle with womanly anticipation.There must be a collective noun for it but as I write this nothing springs to mind, probably because I’m exhausted.

I must admit this wasn’t what I had in mind when I headed to Ibiza, being more of a fan of Rudimental than Take That but as far as tribute acts go this has to be one of the best. Dan Hadfield – The Number one Gary Barlow Tribute Act, was indeed every inch Gary Barlow and as the love descended over Charlie’s I found myself caught up in the unified Gazzer glorification. His execution of Pray was sublime, despite the absence of waterfalls and Rule the World brought out a collective passion so intense that I seriously thought one poor woman was going to have a heart attack. It was brilliant. To top off the night we found some old school friends Jean and Jan and made some new ones, the mysterious and very delightful Mr Q (Q because apparently no one apart from his girlfriend can pronounce his name) and Nicky, who regularly travels to Ibiza by herself because, quite honestly, you can. It’s that sort of place.

And so it came to pass that another night flashed before our eyes here in Ibiza. Photos were taken, arms were waved and new friends made and as romance blossomed within our camp, no not me or my sister, and the dance floor emptied, at 3.00 am Mr Q made the very difficult choice between the eighties mega mix and pizza and chips and we all toddled off for some light refreshment. We have promised ourselves a quiet one and an early night tonight because understandably, we are all exhausted but I won’t make any promises. For in this dual reality that is Ibiza, quite frankly, anything can happen.