| « Lose Weight This Weekend -- Guaranteed! | Thanatos (Shiraz and Amphetamine remix) » |
Like it's 1999
Sitting in the pub at 5.00 on New Year's Eve with Ned and Tess, Ned said "You're getting that nervy look again. Don't worry. It's going to be the greatest party ever." I said that you must not hope for anything you want too much. Ned then spent the rest of the evening trying to wind me up by declaring repeatedly that it will be the greatest party ever.
Richard arrived and started setting chairs in a circle in the living room. I didn't want it to be that kind of party. I don't want to sit around hearing about your fucking job. As more people than chairs arrived, I surreptitiously took the chairs out, forcing people to stand up--and, I hoped, to dance.
My musical selection wasn't achieving the latter objective, so I let them loose on the computer, which produced a much better response.
Richard's wife died four years ago, and his best friend suffered the same fate a month ago. He drank a whole bottle of Jack Daniels and before the stage at which he couldn't stand up, he set off a couple of alarm bells when he was draping himself needily around Tess and Kitty. "Do you need rescuing?" I whispered to Tess, but she waved me away. I'm not good at sympathy, and as I went halfheartedly to drag him onto the sofa after he fell over in front of the fireplace, I'm glad I stopped myself from saying "He's alright. I think it's partly attention-seeking behaviour." But I did say, once he was slumped on the settee again, "Listen Richard, you're not having anything more to drink at this party otherwise you'll have to leave. It's New Year's Eve and you're not contributing much to the night at the moment."
Next morning he was highly apologetic, saying how he was staring out of the window and realising that D--- was dead. I nodded and produced a couple of conciliatory formulae, but I hope he got the message that in future he's got to handle his drink, not bring all his bereavement grief to the party, and that the female guests aren't to be used as social workers. However, the incidents with Richard were but peripheral to a superb night.
I overheard one of those age-old conversations-cum-arguments when one of a yoked dyad wanted to leave and the other wanted to stay; but there was a serendipitous accident in which they didn't hear the text from their taxi home, and besides, you'll not win with Chris, and her boyf was packed off home. A couple of hours later Chris and Barry had an interesting conversation and--I gathered later--walked round to his house to develop their mutual understanding of the topics in question.
Tom, the new lodger, who hardly drinks, showed surprising fortitude in staying up till an early hour, without the catnip that several of the guests were on. Someone asked me for another Smartie at one point and I felt a bit embarrassed when he caught sight of the little plastic bag. But by that stage it was taking off and I was dancing and chatting and had got to the "ah fuck it" stage.
Trina came into the kitchen, where I was chatting to Kitty, and said "I'll forgive you." "What?" "With Chris." I had no idea what that meant and couldn't be bothered pursuing it. Chris and I have sex often, in my imagination. Barry came up and said "Those Smarties! They're the ones that all those people at that party in Holland ended up in hospital with!" "Well I don't know when I'm going to die then Barry because I've had about a dozen of them in the last couple of months."
I gave up at 8.30, because Trina had to drive home--over the limit, and with drugs in her system--although it went on, in a fashion, until the following afternoon.
Someone texted "Looby! Must tell you again, last night was fab!" Someone else said "...the people were just amazing." When I woke up at 2am this morning, there was a text from Mary-Ann. It was unexpected and lip-bitingly delighting: "Merry 2014, sexy thing", which pleased me no end. I texted Daniella, her of the two dates, gorgeous dress, bit taller than me, the sexual thrill of having to tilt my head up slightly to kiss her, and the terrible scene with Trina when she found a text from me to her on my phone. "Hello Daniella. Happy New Year you sexy girl. I often think about you in that lovely dress you wore at the Sun and at yours. Hope you had an enjoyable Christmas. Your admirer from Lancaster X." No reply; not really expecting or wanting one.
13 comments
Oh the wonders of sexting! It makes you feel sexy, excited, it gives you sexpectancies and it’s sooooo easy to flirt!
I’d recommend you lock the screen of your mobile pone. It’s very useful. ;)
PS.- Glad to read that you enjoyed yourself at the party! Happy New Year!
“Chris and I have sex often, in my imagination”
I thought I was the only one (not to have sex with Chris in my imagination, but) to practice infidelity, the art of cheating our significant others with our imagination… I just can’t help it.
Happy New Year!
I love sexting. She’s dropped off the radar now but there was a girl I used to work with called Denise who I used to send fucktastic filthy texts to. She used to read Sophocles in her dinner break and was beautifully curvy and had long ginger hair and wore lovely, original clothes. Oh it was lovely. Real, wank-lovely. I can’t help it. I’m not naturally monogamous. I’d be great if Mary-Ann or Daniella wanted to take up the baton.
BTW people, if you’d like to hear a cliffhanger of a story of sexual attraction, have a look at Leni’s blog.
thought of you as i danced in the new year at a house party among my pod of hippie friends… with only a couple pints, and many glasses of water to keep me going, i only lasted until 0130 this year. what a drag it is getting old…
couldn’t agree more with you about the chairs… my host leaves the living room for conversation, and clears the dining room for music/dance, with a fire pit outside for those needing the smoke. everyone can find what they need…
Oh no, I don’t allow smoking. I’m not having people using hard drugs in the place.
“Tom, the new lodger, who hardly drinks…”
Does this selfish fop not give a fig about your soap opera/blog ratings?
I flappered my way, 1920’s style into 2014 and great fun it was too with lovely drinks like a side car, green fairy and even a teapot of warmed and spiced gin! All very chin chin!
Wishing you a hopefully interesting and happy new year Looby ! xx
May I belatedly point out that I am quite sure I have an early 7 inch single by the criminally underrated Heaton Norris-based quartet Trina and the Lodgers upstairs there in the attic, filed alongside Talulah Gosh and The Tindersticks (neither of which I imagine featured on your democratically-elected NYE playlist, but it still sounds like the party to end all parties- so well done to you and Happy New Year Looby!)
Dear Looby, thank you very much for mentioning my blog. I really appreciate that. :)
PS.- It takes a lot of talent and nerve to write good erotic/sexual messages. Daniella doesn’t know what she’s missing!
I was at a suburban party with a bunch of New Jersey house fraus, their dull husbands and charming children. I have nothing in common with any these good people and I never will. They all gathered around the TV to watch the ball drop in Times Square at midnight. I was asleep by 12:30. My wife and kids had a good time. I suppose that’s good enough.
Chef–no, I don’t think he’s bothered! He’s OK though, bit of a slow burner.
GB–I can just imagine you doing that and since I read your comment yesterday the images of you doing so have been dancing round my mind. You’re perfect for flappering. I hope you have an interesting 2014 too, my word-crush of 2013.
Jonathan–Really! Someone told me that went for 900 quid on Ebay.
Leni–Well, don’t get too excited, you haven’t seen my overheated night-time texts yet. I mention your blog because I like it, and 2013 has needed a bit of fresh air, with everyone jacking it in.
Exile–Oh dear, I can imagine it so clearly. Have you read Revolutionary Road by Richard Yates? It’s the best analysis of the toxic alchemy that arises when self-absorption combines with obsessive concern for the appearance one gives to others–something that smoulders with a particular tang in the post-war suburbs. A glass in sympathy in your direction, and also many thanks for keeping tags on me this year.
All the best for 2014, to my patient, tolerant readers. And the other ones too :)
HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA.
Really was the Best Party Ever though; let’s face it. Think my blog did it better justice than yours though! ;)
Which of our blogs contains more sexual content, do you think?!!!
Yes, your blog entry was a masterpiece of total recall and was far more informative in giving people an idea of what actually went on.
Not sure who’s got the greatest amount of filth but it’s nice to wallow it with someone else :)
Form is loading...
