Party time

Around this time of year I give a party for my neighbours and local friends. This started as flat warming three years ago. That  party went well and I thought a late garden summer party after many have returned from their holidays and the weather can be unseasonably warm would work well. Polly identified some superb caterers who by now know the form.

They say life divides into hosts and guests. I believe there is a third category of thise  who really neither care to attend let alone give a  party. Guests categories break into natural socialites and those that find entering a room they know only few a terrible strain. One such single regular always comes up with a request to arrive with someone, this time telling me I invited someone I met at lunch she gave which I’m fairly sure I did not.

I try to find some form of cabaret. A couple of years ago I engaged a magician. This year I went for a small jazz combo organised by a couple of pub vocalists I know. They played on a balcony overlooking my small patio where guesrs congregated. There is boardwalk open to the public overlooking the patio and the group attracted quite an audience there.

10  guests dropped out or did not show on the day. I received various lame excuses. My mother, a superb hostess, told me to allow for a 10% drop-out so at least I had not over-catered.

By the end there a group of stragglers, all of whom were drunk and showing no inclination to leave. I rather wanted to restore my flat to its pre-party state and generally rest and relax after 12 hours of pretty much constant work. I was relatively sober and conversation between myself and someone was clearly drunk asymmetric. There is an odd and dangerous fusion of over-familiarity and touchy belligerence that can lead to an argument. I enjoyed the party, deemed it a success but was relieved it was over for another year.