Well I tried. Not helped by my not wanting to go to the theatre. But I put on a black velvet dress and pearls and set forth. I went to the loo before wandering around the champagne bar area, deciding I didn't fancy champagne.
As I walked away toward the lift I became uncomfortably aware that my skirt was hitched up on one side, rather less becomingly than the girl in the TV ad, but hauled it back down with one hand in a nonchalant way.
I later reflected that being 17 stone and 68 years old, and even worse, wearing knee-highs did not help the situation, particularly since I had wandered around for some time, unaware of any 'looks' from the assembled opera-goers. Years before, I would have rushed home in embarrassment. Toughing it out, I took my place in the audience.
It was at this point I discovered that wearing a velvet dress with a cross-over tie front and sitting on a velvet seat is a total no-no. I became somehow stuck to the seat in an uncomfortable position. The opera was quite amusing, but I was deeply uncomfortable, my dress somehow glued to the chair. I sighed with relief when the interval came, and getting up to leave, I realised that my dress had slightly come apart revealing the right-hand bra cup (fortunately black like the dress). I rapidly tied the dress up as I left and decided to go home at once, rather than tempt fate further, particularly since I had been forced to take liberal quantities of Imodium that morning.
Pouring rain outside but I managed to get a cab. I have never been so glad to get home. Deary me.
I bet the second act was absolutely brilliant.
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