Party Time

For some strange reason, everything is occuring at once at the moment. Obviously I turned 21 last week, which is something I’d like to forget about, but my cousin turned 18 the other day, which led to a rather large party. Next weekend another cousin is getting married, and then shortly after it is my mum and dad’s 25th anniversary.

So this is leading to many parties. My family seems to do parties fairly well, and they always end with a good old fashioned barney. Or at least they seem to. The tension always seems to come from the same people as well, as they are in a permanent conflict mode. I recall a drunk argument at my 18th birthday party between an aunty and uncle, followed by much vomiting, and it just so happens that the same two people were at loggerheads at my cousin’s 18th as well. This time, the argument was over whether said uncle was going to join the almost-aunty (for they are not married) on the dance floor. It gets very tedious eventually…

Nevertheless, it didn’t stop a good night. I tried not to think about the fact that three years had passed me by in the blink of an eye. On my 18th, this cousin was just a few days away from her 15th birthday, so even then we were jointly celebrating two significant birthdays. On Saturday night we were doing the same again. Time flies. The other thought I was trying to get rid of, but failing, was that we will never again have such a co-occurence of significant birthdays.

My favourite part of Real Parties (for mine last week was not a real one) is having a dance floor. I don’t dance properly, and don’t pretend that I’m a dancer, but I’ll go up there anyway. When everyone else around you is drunk, they tend to not remember, so I can enjoy the music safely. This time, there was an added bonus that in the middle of the dance floor was a large ceiling fan. It was very warm last night, so this was a great help. I tried as best I could to hold the fan, but it was inevitable that my convenient arrangement would be rumbled and others would try to elbow me out the way. I could always sense it, as some other “dancer” would approach, slowly getting closer, in the end forcing me to move to the side. I’d rather not hold my ground against drunk, aggressive distant family members. And they are very distant. This cousin’s dad, my uncle, is notorious for inviting people to parties at the most tenuous link possible. That guy who sold them a budgie last year? No problem.

Of course, the old classics are always the best. My family’s favourite tunes are Real Gone Kid and Dignity, both by Deacon Blue and Whole of the Moon by the Waterboys. They have a habit of filling the dancefloor with even the most ardent of anti-dancers, including my dad. It’s always an odd sight to see him making his way over as the tunez begin to pump. Still, it’s remarkable for me to think that I used to have such confidence issues and now I couldn’t give a damn about the latest daft dance moves I’m inventing on the spot as I pretend to be enjoying a dance to Drop It Like It’s Hot. Such fine lyrics in that song, I’m sure you’ll agree.

So all in all, a very good night. It should have been for the money that my uncle claims to have spent on it – over £1,000. But my cousin always was an attention seeker, wanting the biggest party possible. My 18th was an entirely house-based affair, costing just the food and drink my mum and dad put out, no more than £100.

I’m tired this morning though. Dancing as I did, singing like I did, has really taken it out of me. My voice is still recovering. I’m sure it will be back to normal by the next party though.

The next party will also include a small celebration for the end of term at school too. My last day of “work” will be on Friday. That has also gone by so quickly. I’ve been home from Uni for 8 weeks now. Just ridiculous…

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