We made ourselves very unpopular with the neighbours last year by indulging in a raucous karaoke session. Oh dear, don't they know they are living next door to undiscovered musical stars?
And it wasn't the kids' fault; ours, plus the offspring of our friends, played happily and quietly on the Wii, while the adults got drunk and belted out a tune or two.
So I am thinking ahead. What can I wear?
I think I have the answer.
Groovy baby! It's a homemade 1960s palazzo pant jumpsuit, for want of a snappier title, in the most fabulous vibrant Pucci-esque psychedelic print.
I love love love it, so even though it's too small on the booboids, I am determined to winch myself into it.
I recently commented in a message to the divine Sarah Misfit that I though I love her spectacular jumpsuits, I couldn't possibly wear one. She, quite rightly, responded that I was talking crap - why ever not? So I have been on the look out for one to see who's right.
What's the verdict?
I am keeping stellar company with these beautiful jump/catsuit wearing hotties.
Aren't they gorgeous?
I don't know what it is about this item of clothing, but it seems to bring out the interpretive dancer in me.
Look at those fuck-off palazzo legs!
I am referring to the jumpsuit, not mine.
Don't ask me what I'm doing. I have no idea, I just came over a bit strange.
Channelling Martha Graham?
The ability to laugh at one's own foolishness is necessary for the maintenance of sanity, I find.