Missing out!

The sun is shining, I'm having a well-earned week off, the boys are having a great time running round the garden all day but I'm sulking inside. There, I've admitted it!

The reason for this unattractive state is that Mike is off to Scotland for the weekend to play with a massed band. Before I'm hastily labelled a control freak/bunny boiler/etc, I should get in quickly that I have no problem with Mike being away. His job generally means anti-social hours and passing like ships in the night for most of the time anyway!

No, my big beef is that I can't go with him. I'm booked for a concert on Saturday night and the date has been in my diary for months and months. Definitely not something I can (or should) just duck out of. I'm sure that it's going to be a good evening and that I'll enjoy what I'm singing but I'm also absolutely certain of the fact that it's going to be a fantastic weekend in Scotland, with loads of friends, some great music and brilliant laughs to be had. We've done this sort of weekend before and it's always amazing in all kinds of ways. I also hate being the one to miss out - I've already told Mike that he has to instruct me in all the in j0kes that will inevitably come back.

I don't know where this desperation not to miss out on anything comes from but I have always had it in me. I have never been able to bear not being at something or not understanding a joke.
Realistically, I've got to get over myself and just cope with the fact that I can't go but it's not an easy task to stifle the urge to run after the coach, shouting "take me with you, take me!".

Mike's only gripe about the whole situation is that, as he's not going as a couple this time, he won't get "married quarters" and will have to sleep in the smelly boys' dormitory where there will, no doubt, be snoring and nasty whiffs. It's a hard life.....