Saturday, November 27

party time

Last night I had to go to a drinks party at an artist's studio. She's somebody I get on well with, and I like her pictures. And I knew the crowd already, from a walk we did earlier in the year.

Even so, I expected the typical Xmas party, with everyone shouting at once, and I arrived with the earplugs already in place. But we got there unfashionably early, before it was in full swing.

After 5 minutes I found I wanted to hear what people were saying, so I took the plugs out. Then I grabbed some red wine. It wasn't alcohol-free but what the hell.

Later a very sociable journalist acquaintance arrived, and we chatted for maybe an hour. One of these garrulous conversations where every topic spawns several more, and you're racing to chase them all down without losing any. And of course it helps when neither of you is a deifheid.

When you've enjoyed a party, saying goodbye at the end you actually feel as if you like everybody. Strange.


  1. Albert? You went to a drinks party in an artist's studio, did you? Did you protrude your pinkie as you slurped down the tea? Can we ever get over this nicety nice? Did you ask anyone for a blow job in the cupboard? I bet you didn't! Neither would I! Civilisation has a lot to answer for. Hotboy p.s. Did anyone have any sex at this thing at all? Thought not! Stick to the docks and the Vaseline!

  2. Hotters. Artists are almost as ineffable as writers. Besides, I thought all the navel gazing was supposed to have made you immune to fleshly thoughts.

  3. Albert? Some drunken bum took over my identity last night and wrote that awful obscene comment. Must apologise on his behalf. Anyway, if you drank more you'd realise that your party experience is what happens when you drink ... well, just a bit. Oils of the wheels of sociability. Of course, if you drink as much as I do, you just end up shouting obscenities, or maybe even typing them!! It snowed here last night. Hmmm? Hotboy

  4. Hotters. I didn't notice any difference. Maybe you're developing some kind of bourgeois over sensitivity.

    Relentlessly sunny here. You're fortunate to have such varied weather.

  5. I say!

    Thank goodness the unhealthy obsession with schoolgirls on some of the blogs I read seems to have passed.

    MM III

  6. Mingers. Unedifying perhaps, but surely quite natural?

  7. Albert? Who are these people? I would like to have sex with some of them. Sorry that the all seem to be underage. Why haven't the polis arreseted all these evil basturns!

  8. Hotters. Sorry you're eyesight's failing. And without even the usual excuse for going blind. Dearie me.