Oooh, I just wanted to shimmy my fluffy bobtail dear, but it was never going to happen due to my short, fat legs.
Memories of 40 years ago flooded back as Firebird and myself walked into the Grosvenor Casino last Friday.
In the 1970s this was The Bunny Club and most of my luscious long-legged girliepals were Bunny Girls.
Nah, not me. I worked at The Jokers nightclub along the road, and had to content myself with going to The Bunny Club when I finished work at 2am.
It was so glitzy and glamorous back then, all the men in dinner suits and the women in long dresses.
I loved it, though I’ve never been one that could understand why people gambled.
I was about to get a rude awakening last week. More later.
Recently I’ve been chatting to Agatha Flon Flon de Gusset about the volume of online gaming and bingo websites being advertised on the gogglebox. So off I went to have a ‘Google’ darlings.
It appears that online gambling websites are amongst the fastest-growing and most profitable businesses in existence today. Wow.
Then Agi and I took a meander down memory lane.
Both being Pompey gals, we remember the picture houses springing up in Fratton and Bradford Junction being turned into a bingo hall.
If your mum, gran, auntie or sister was missing, you could bet she was ‘down the bingo love.’
We then went back even further to the mid ’50s, where our families would gather in a smoke-filled back parlour to play gin rummy, whist or pontoon (also called 21).
And it was that last game, called Black Jack in the USA, that was about to cause me trouble on Friday.
After our delicious dinner at the Grosvenor Casino, the adorable Ryan gave Firebird and myself free gaming lessons.
I’m telling you folks, for two women who don’t gamble we loved it.
Thank goodness it was their money and not ours that we were spending.