You’ll always find me in the kitchen at parties

You’ll always find me in the kitchen at parties

That’s where the least conspicuous exit is. The back door is almost always quieter than the front (why is that?), even left open, for 'the smokers', in many cases. A slick getaway is always best executed via the rear. 

I dread parties.

There’s one this afternoon - a two-year-old’s, though age rarely matters in these cases – and I might have uttered a profanity when my husband reminded me of it this morning (as I was chattering away about heading into the city later, imagining a day of wonderment with my nearest and dearest. Sigh). But why do I feel this way? I’m sure I’ll report back that I had a lovely PM and met some fine new people and came away convinced that children are indeed the future.

It’s the idea of it.

Perhaps, firstly, of doing anything (despite my fervent, now-dashed city plans). Who wants to actually do anything?

I’ll probably have to look nice. Be friendly. Buy presents. A card. Forget to buy wrapping paper (I am not a person who has a nice collection of suitable wrappings in anticipation of a year or more of parties and related celebrations. I hear I need to get a gift, I buy a gift, I later remember the gift requires some form of covering, I go out again and find a covering. It’s a failing).

Where was I? Oh, the idea of doing stuff. Looking appropriate for other humans. Yes.

Then there’s the duration, always unknown, irrespective of any mooted end-time. Thinking of when I’ll be able to leave, well in advance of the actual day. How soon can we get away? Factor in being polite, imagining possible reasons for leaving, wondering if an actual reason for leaving will present itself.

But then it’s time to go to the damn party. Ugh. Come on, then: let’s go.

Several hours later...

Well, that was good, wasn’t it?

More than good: I loved it!

How nice was Emma?

And her husband!

Oh, he’s lovely. He was asking really interesting questions, too, as though he was actually interested. I enjoyed talking to him.

And their friends are so easy-going.

Yes! It didn’t feel as though we’d just met at all. Such a comfortable atmosphere.

It’d be nice to see that – who was it...

...Nicky and Brett?

...Yes! Them, it would be great to go out with them sometime, or invite them over here. I should have thought to get their details...

...It's okay, she asked me for my number so we could go out – it’s her birthday next month. She wants to invite us to her party.

That’d be great! Oh, we’ll definitely go.

Yes! Oh, that reminds me, we’ve also got that other party next Saturday.

Another bloody party!? I hate parties. I’m not going. Ooh, Nicky just texted! Are we free Sunday after next for her party?!

Definitely! Can we bring anything?

 

Merry Christmas x