Perran and Carenza’s eighteenth party had arrived. After the initial stroll of guests ( I would like to say “rush” but it simply wouldn’t be accurate), I joined Nigel and our friends Bill and Kathy in the hall kitchen.
The music was setting our ancient teeth on edge. Not one track was allowed to play right through. Our own teenage squabbles over records had been replaced with fights over which iPod got plugged into the PA system. We groaned as the Black Eyed Peas were usurped by an interminable rap number, but Kathy said brightly,
“Do you have any black bin bags?”
“Yes,” I replied jumpily, “Is there something we need to clear up?”
“No – I’m playing the violin in a concert of space-themed music for children tomorrow and I’m supposed to dress as an alien.”
We gathered round the kitchen table wielding string, scissors, paper cups and kitchen foil. Our older son and his friend joined us. In the background, Bowie was rudely cut off and Olly Murs substituted but we didn’t care.
By the time we had finished, Kathy had her costume and the music had thankfully been taken over by Jo who had the two essential qualities of having some good dance music and being able to win most arguments.Did I hear Carenza at the end thanking Kathy for keeping me occupied? Bill should have worked harder to restrain Nigel – he went out there and Dad-danced to Michael Jackson...