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Hi, I'm Lyndsey. I'm a 36 year old Mum from Wales. I have a Masters Degree in Marketing Communications and Public Relations and put it to good use in my work as a freelance Marketing & PR consultant. I also work part time as a fundraising coordinator for a Welsh charity which I absolutely love!! With two jobs, two children, two cats and a handsome man, lets just say I'm a busy lady. 
From 2006-2008, I wrote a column for the Denbighshire Free Press. I was so proud of the feedback I got for this, even the one angry ‘You Suck’ letter to the editor cheered me up no end; it showed that people took notice of what little ol’ me had to say. It’s good to know that people give a rat’s ass either way! So, succumbing to requests from my former fan club (ok, overstating there – readers who had nothing better to do on a Thursday afternoon) under the March 2014 archive you will find a selection of my early Free Press articles. I’d love to hear what you think on any of the subjects raised…you know, rat’s ass either way feedback ;-)


Tenerife. Day 3. Karaoke Night

I'm so jealous of my Hubby.  He got to sing karaoke with the King. The audience loved it!

We had decided that Saturday night was to be the late night party night.  The kids were all for it, my man & I were all geared up for it, by 5.30pm we had found the perfect venue and by 5.40, we were all knackered.

A day at the beach in the sweltering heat, followed by tapas and sangria meant that we were all yawning by early evening but determined not to let each other down.

Luckily, we got our second wind by 10pm. Having swigged down enough Red Bull to keep me sparky-eyed till sunrise, I was all set for my stage debut.  The kids had submitted a bunch of tunes to the compere dude which they hoped I could pull off and then sat deliberating for ages over a showstopper of their own.

As expected though, Hubs was a flat refusal. I was already amazed that my son was choosing a song for himself so I figured that one miracle was enough for one holiday, and left Hubby be.  I found out later however that it was actually bribery with a new football top from Hubby rather than a miraculous recovery from 10 years of shyness.

"Lets have Lyndsey on the stage, woo yeah".  Up I strutted, opened my face and belted out a Pink classic.  From the cheers, I deduced that I'd done a good job.  The next chick on stage asked how she was supposed to be able to follow that & I hid my smug grin inside my vodka glass.

A few songs later and us publics were evicted from the stage, to make way for the King.  His poster depicted Elvis surrounded by topless beauties and I don't know who looked more disappointed by their absence, my son or Elvis himself.  He opened with some fab, heavily dodgy accented rendition of Suspicious Minds then followed with a bunch of 'jokes' which could have earned him a severe case of microphone wedgie; particularly after branding a lovely scouse family 'benefit streeters'.  

Finally, bounding off stage, he grabbed the nearest friendly face (Hubby's) and dragged him onto the stage.  Elvis wrapped half a chimp's face round my man's mush and then launched into one of the dodgiest songs of all time - Blurred Lines.  

I watched with initial horror until I realised that my man with relief that my fella was a bit drunk.  He was laughing, as far as I could tell from behind the mask, and I suppose the crotch thrust dance was a bit of a giveaway too.  
Hubby stepped off stage to a massive round of applause, whistles and whoops. Show stealer; he completely stole my thunder!

After Elvis had left the building, it was my daughter's turn. She sang so sweetly that the audience were "Aahhh"ing in no time.  Another thunder stealer!  My Son decided that a footy shirt just wasn't worth it and tore up his Eminem submission.

The rest of the night was a blur of dancing, more singing and a haunting flashback of me on stage with a bunch of bearded Spice Girls.  Only in Tenerife eh!!

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