I am not a duck! Right now I wish I were. It always surprises me that for a reasonably intelligent person I have such a tenuous grasp on reality. I live in the UK. It rains a lot here. It has rained continuously for the last 12 days. And yet I am still surprised.
I've been falling asleep on the sofa all week. My normal 10pm bedtime has been augmented by an extra 2 hours of dozing every evening. Am I descending into old age prematurely?
Last weekend I threw a 65th birthday party for Chris. I'd been madly trying to arrange it either side of our trip to Oz and was quite nervous that it would fall flat on its face. I had no need to worry (I never do - doesn't stop me though). The night was a rip-roaring success and the last of the partygoers finally retired to bed around 5am.
We started with a lively but civilised 'do' at The Angel Inn here in Petworth. The addition of coffins, severed heads and zombies were not an indication of the company we keep, but rather of the parallel Halloween celebrations. Our Petworth friends turned out in force and sang Happy Birthday - touching Chris to the point of "fillin' up". Party food was guzzled, toasts were made, balloons were popped, and by 10.30pm our hardcore guests had decamped to our house where the party really started.
By the time I got there the music was blaring and our befurnitured sitting room was awash with writhing bodies. Phew. Now I don't cook (far too stressful) but I do know how to be a good hostess. As the birthday champagne was quaffed I adopted the roll of DJ. This involved me crawling around on my hands and knees with a torch and my spectacles. Well you don't think I was going to let that bunch of drunks loose on Chris's precious HiFi, do you?!
The dancing got off to a gentle start with UB40 - before Prince, Abba and the soundtrack to Footloose had everyone leaping and posturing like lunatics. Demands for Elvis were satisfied, and an array of kitchen utensils were produced so that we might sing along. Later in the proceedings the spatulas were employed for rather more violent ends. But I'll leave the details to your imagination & the memories of our ebullient guests.
Suffice to say there was passing out, snogging, cheese sandwiches, smudged mascara and a charming dog (yes really). All in all the making of a perfect party. Staggering to bed in the wee small hours, Chris pronounced it the best birthday celebration ever. Phew again. I'd even managed to clear away the debris so that Sunday morning passed in a hungover haze of coffee and cooked breakfasts.
Due to the number of guests who'd crashed at ours we were able to continue the celebrations in pyjamas and duvets - dissecting the evening and laughing hysterically at the iPhone photos - probably still drunk. A mid-afternoon Sunday roast soaked up some of the alcohol and by 7pm Chris and I were snoring on the sofa.
My youthful husband's birthday wasn't until Tuesday and we had just about recovered sufficiently to continue the party into midweek. I was joking that instead of a portrait in the attic, like good old Dorian Grey, Chris has me. The younger and more energetic he becomes, the more my wrinkles develop!
So perhaps my exhaustion this week has less to do with the weather and more to do with the excesses of last weekend. We're none of us getting any younger! So a big thank you to everyone who contributed to the celebrations. And a bigger thank you to my wonderful, youthful hubby for whom it was an absolute pleasure to throw a birthday bash.
Laura x
No comments:
Post a Comment