Mark, with the assistance of fabulous party planners Nikki and Meizee, threw me a surprise 30th party at the Harding’s beachside resort last week.
I have to say, I actually didn’t expect it at all because it was 2 days before my birthday and I was told that the big night was going to be on Sunday. And to add extra icing on the confusion cake, Mark Leahy informed me on the night itself that he was going to bring me to the Marina in Sentosa to show me the NEW YACHT that he had bought. Which of course triggered off a bout of “WHAT?!?! YOU BOUGHT A WHAT!?!”s that lasted all the way in the taxi while we were on our grumpy way to the Hardings.
Thankfully, there was no NEW YACHT! Instead, there were 35 of my bestest friends, old and new, a ice sculpture of my name, a big helium balloon, a cake with my shoes on top and more alcohol than you could shake a stick at.
I was overwhelmed with relief, and shortly afterwards, much joy and merriment as the spectre of the NEW YACHT vanished from my consciousness and I was plied with many glasses of bubbly.
For some reason, my girlfriends appeared to think that it was my hen night as I was presented with all manner of kinky accoutrements for the bedroom including a crystal studded riding crop (tested on Mark’s buttocks on the spot), a USB vibrator, a diamante studded waterproof rude object and several items of lewd lingerie.
I wonder if it is a sign of age when you look at a nipple-less bra and think it would be highly practical for nursing a baby. (Or a “titsucker” as Mark calls them).
Anyway. Fast forward to 2 hours later, all of us are merrily considering jumping into the pool when suddenly we hear a loud thud and the crashing of broken glass.
Twas my husband, who had done a Scarlett O Hara, fainting and thumping his (blessedly) robustly thick skull on the edge of the teak deck.
We were all stunned because he was unconscious for a good 5 minutes. It took 5 guys to lift him off the broken wine glasses and carry him to the grass and I actually recall someone asking me if he had life insurance! (Must have been a banker…)
Mark came to after I pressed a cold towel on his head but spent a few minutes cooing inanely (more inanely than usual) like a baby before he said anything half-sensible. Quite scary stuff as I didn’t know whether I had suddenly acquired a third bottom to diaper or not!
Then he started making jokes and Jim Duignan declared him right as rain using the time-honoured Irish “sense of humour” medical test. Meizee rolled her eyes and declared that it was typical of Mark to attempt to steal the limelight even on my 30th. All of us agreed.
A few days later, after a battery of tilt-tests, EEGs, consultations and neurologists bills, Mark proudly declared that his fainting was due to him being “TOO FIT”. Yes he claims that his heart rate is only 37 beats a minute, so when he skips a beat his brain is deprived of oxygen for 4 seconds. And now that he’s not banking any more, he is so relaxed his low blood pressure is endangering his consciousness.
It seems that his prescription was – don’t exercise so much, eat more salt and do more stressful things. Sounds like the world of banking is paging Mr Leahy! I’m deeply suspicious…