I think my deep rooted fear of hosting a shindig comes from my youth. Cast your mind back to when I was a wee nipper at the tender age of 13. All spotty with a Rachel-From-Friends haircut, a penchant for multicoloured nails and Rimmel powder foundation. Clad in platform heels and a mini snakeskin number from Miss Selfridge, I embarked on the teenage ritual of a Joint Thirteenth Birthday Party with my best forever friend (or "Bes Fo Fri", if we're going by my half of the necklace), Michelle.
A school hall was booked, invites sent out. Strict 'no booze' instructions were issued, Panda Pops and sweets were supplied. All was going swimmingly for Michelle, who was getting fingered by a Year 9 boy outside on the grass. But the DJ wasn't playing the right music, and my people were slow to arrive. When they did, they were clutching forbidden alcohol and friends I didn't recognise. Although looking back the photos reveal a busy hall, inside I was panicking. Nerves, E numbers and a severe dislike for the Men In Black theme tune kicked in, producing one of the thumping headaches that plagued me through my teenage years. I was home by 8:30pm with a migraine, throwing up into a bucket with a flannel on my head in a darkened room. Happy Birthday Jo.
Even now, I'll endeavor to have my birthdays somewhere low key like a pub, where there's no pressure for people to turn up, no room to fill. I don't like fuss. So it is with trepidation that I have "organised" a leaving do at my house, thus depending on the invitees to make the journey not somewhere easy and anonymous, like a central London pub, but to my house in NW London (a process made near impossible thanks to Transport for London's weekend engineering works). There'll be no bar, no DJ, no frills and no avoiding the hosting duties.
Happily, my mum is busy filling the guestlist with her own strange suggestions. She thinks my low key, relaxed leaving party with close friends should include 'David and Barbara from round the corner, because they've known you since you were tiny'. Yes mum, but I haven't seen them for like a year, what difference will another 8 months make? And what about 'Edith and Terry?' Why, mum? 'Well, they always ask how you are'.
Bloody hell. Will someone please tell my mother that I'm going travelling, not getting married?
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
10 comments:
I'd a thort a little one; save the biggie for your Triumphant Return.
Oh and...
All was going swimmingly for Michelle, who was getting fingered by a Year 9 boy...
That's when I lost my mug of tea over the table.
Haha, the same sentence had more or less the same effect on me as on Brennig. Cripes some kids get further at 13 than I got for... well, some time after that :)
And I also hate hosting parties. I get very very fussy suddenly about alcohol on the carpet and mysteriously turn into my mother.
I hate hosting parties too. Dinner parties where I know exactly who's going to come is fine. Parties. No.
I always fear I'm going to be sitting there on my own while everyone else goes to some other, much better party.
ARGG!
I hate hosting parties too. Dinner parties where I know exactly who's going to come is fine.
Splutter.
I'm glad I'm not the only one aghast at the thought of someone being fingered on their 13th birthday - eww! Too much, too soon!
I'm shocked at ^them^ being shocked... My 13th was much the same, except it involved a tent in the garden, and Michelle was called Sophie.
And I had one of those necklaces. One half of a heart? Euck.
I'm ancient, so the least said about my birthdays the better...
And I hate hosting parties 'cause my OCD kicks in and I want to follow people about with binbags telling them not to disturb the scatter cushions.
I think I may blog about my 13th.
Brennig - What a wonderful idea. Another party for when I come back hpefully someone else will organise that one)
Kirsty - Oh I don't mind a bit of spilt drinks, just the texts beforehand saying 'i can't come sorry'
nutty - Yeaaah that's pretty much my fear. Me, and OAPs called Edith, Dave and Terry.
Brennig - HAHA! Mind, meet gutter.
Homer - Par for the course with our Michelle I'm afraid. If I rightly, she was proving she wasn't 'frigid'. Happy times.
roseski - Yeah, I remember a lot of that kind of stuff going on. That's tame. I remember people who didn't get into the youth club disco because they were drunk giving blowjobs down alleyways around the same age.
Luckily I was unattractive to the opposite sex back then, so didn't get to join in the fun.
Scarlett - I think my parents will be around to do that worrying for me!
Elaine - DO IT! DO IT! DO IT! I want scandals...
They were playing MIB at your THIRTEENTH?! Oh dear god.
I was pondering an early birthday party, but I'm rethinking the idea now.
Post a Comment