Today, I'm gonna talk about one of my bette noir's - the dreaded bar stool, or getting on and off them! You see, being a short arse of only 5ft 4" and of a plus size, getting on and off these things is a bit of a nightmare, even in normal circumstances. It starts with mounting said stool in a most undignified manner (more so if wearing a short dress or skirt!), legs akimbo whilst trying to get balanced until, eventually I feel safe enough to sit up straight. Once in this position, I usually refuse to move, getting anoyone around to get me a drink etc as it is so much hassle (my excuse for not getting a round in lol!) So< once perched, I am fine as long as I don't move. Yup, I sit like a statue, not daring to move in case I should fall and loose my dignity (ha! that went looooong ago) Then comes the dreaded dismount, or as I prefer to call it - uncontrolled falling off - all I can say is it ain't pretty, arms and legs fly everywhere and someone usually has to catch me (imagine Dumbo trying to fly.....). Remeber, this is just in a "normal" situation - pub, club etc with carpet, a fairly soft landing.

So, imagine throwing into the mix a perilously slippy floor - yeah, the gunge has been cleaned away, but it's more like a skating rink (Sliming On Ice, anyone?) The stool is actually glaring at me, daring me to try and get on it without making an utter prat of myself yet again (remeber, I have already taken a tumble on said floor and my arse hurts like a bugger). There is also a bit of slime on the stool as well - it lurks menacingly.....taunting me.....full of malevolence...eeeek
However, Dave, being a true gent (unlike OTHERS present!) holds my hand as we walk across the rink, sorry floor. But how to actually get on the stool - I just know that as soon as I put a foot onto the footrest, I'm gonna go for a burton. "Erm. Dave......can I borrow a towel or cloth? Just to put on the floor so I have something to gain purchase so I don't slip......" At this point, the Cornish one is making comments about my previous fall (what scale on the richter was it?) grrr! Happily, Dave obliges, and I am able to wriggle my way onto the offending item "Please, don't look and don't laugh!" as I uncerimoniously clamber aboard and everybody present does just that - bang goes my dignity yet again! Bum's up in the air whilst I shuffle round, then, looking more like an old lady sat in a deck chair with legs open wide whilst I get comfy - oh dear! So much for trying to look glamorous?

The gunging goes swimmingly - someone had FAR too much fun dispensing the "buckets of DOOM" but I loved every minute of it, even when the slime trickled down my back, cleavage and legs - green could be my new colour! But then, of course, I had to get off........."bring back the towel!" I cried. I guess we could have shot my dismount, purely for comedic value - never has one tread so gingerly on the slimey floor of Chez Gunjee, I'll bet. Finally, I am off and slither my way across to the showers - on my bum, coz it's far safer than trying to walk (Health and Safety, folks!) Next time, I'm gonna ask for a step ladder!