Cashino 3

And I'm at another casino. It's pretty. The carpet isn't sticky and it's really busy. But where are my characters? Where are my crying gamblers with their chips of shame? Where are the lecherous old men with their deplorable winks? This is my 3rd casino of the year and by far the most gentle. 

Reading was my favourite, it was glam and loud and sparkly but it had the people who were able to be watched, and while I'm honest, have a little giggle about. 

Tonight I will not gamble and the reason is simple, this is the place I could get drawn into. This particular casino would give me a gambling problem. I'd start with a mere little cheeky bet....i would end up living in Brighton, being 75 and wearing glitter on my eyelids, just putting "one more tenner" of my pension on the table. Because the people around me are people I don't deride, they are dressed well, talk decently. I can't judge these people, for they look like they don't live in a gambling house of fun all day and night. As pretty as Reading was, it had the people, the shrieking women, the stereotypes I abhor. The other Brighton one has the intense emotion of the poor who shouldn't be putting their dole-clad feet within 10 metres of a casino - they should rather stick to the amusements. 

As ever these places fascinate me. The money that runs through them is phenomenal. I should have fulfilled my dad's ambition for me to be a welder by day, croupier by night, ballet dancer on weekends. They could have made a movie about me, they'd have called it "Flashdealt". *grin* 

What a great night it's been. Date night? I am wearing a nice dress, although I left my shoes at home (my feet are probably very grateful). I've had wine, pizza, olives, (alas no dough balls)...and the company of TB. Purrrrfect.