Pithy

The only thing that got me through tonight was imagining the pithy blurb I could add to this blip.

The evening was dry-ice, tartan carpet, ceiling fans and sausage roll. I ascertained that there's going to be a peroxide shortage in the city over the next few weeks. There was sparkles and sports wear. Young and old. Fat and painfully thin. There were even wee boys sliding across polished floors on their knees.

And the "entertainment" (all one hundred fecking decibels of it) went from late December 1963 to the summer of '69. Jeez.

Just because most of us have been around long enough to remember Abba, BCRs, Tina (Turner and Charles) and Gloria Gaynor. It doesn't necessarily mean we want to hear them all...all night.

Oh dear. I sound a bit ungrateful, don't I?