Reluctant partygoer

Seven o’clock on a Saturday evening. I just got out of a hot bath and I’m tired. Bed feels warm and welcoming. The rest of the flat is cold.

In less than an hour I’m going to go to a party. I’m sure there were times where the prospect of such an endeavour would have filled me with anticipation. “What curious conversations will I find?” The party habit got smashed when we all splintered into solitary fearfulness. Now I am trying to marshal my energies so I can do this instead of just staying in the warm place switching the light off and snoozing until morning. I almost went to Vault Festival this evening but the thing was sold out and I think that didn’t help my mood. Plus it has been grey all day and now it’s dark. Dammit February, you’re letting me down.

My friend has started sending me selfies from Vault now. She’s tempting me out. Doesn’t want me to flake. Vault is a kooky lovely mix of theatrical strangeness. She’s all dressed up and is also going to the party after watching a show. “I was sad too but then I got dressed up.” Damn. She’s right though. Change the outside and the inside changes with it.

This party… it is gonna happen whether I feel like it or not. I might galvanise with a cup of coffee and then put something ostentatious like a frock coat and hat on and drive there with the last of the Christmas prosecco in shotgun. Then I can celebrate my friend and donate alcohol and it’s Sunday tomorrow so if I do end up getting sloshed I can come back to get the car in the morning, and if I’m restrained then I give myself a comfy ride home to warmth. And I’ll have a disguise which will allow me to be gregarious. Having the car will be an incentive to behave well as this place is the other side of town from me and it’ll either be multiple buses or too much money in an Uber, one of which I don’t fancy and the other I can’t justify.

London London London. Always the prospect of something to do, but the expense of it all and the crowds. Right. It’s twenty past. It is time to haul up and consider the bizarre and disorganised contents of my wardrobe.

Well that was easier than it could have been. Jacket and trousers courtesy of Os de las casas, hat courtesy of uncle Peter. Tie and waistcoat John Jones. Cravat by Lou. I feel a bit more like someone who goes out on the town. Now it’s just the business of doing it.

I did it mummy I did it! Lovely people in a house all the way across time and even though I brought the average age up by about ten years I was happy to have made it and felt included. I also didn’t reflexively drink loads to try and stop myself from feeling awkward. I had a single prosecco and ended up taking some old friends home. It’s not quite 1am and I’m liable to be back in bed soon, although typically now I’ve been at the party I’m wired on company. I do like people and talking long hours about the nature of things. Didn’t that used to happen virtually every night?

Author: albarclay

This blog is a work of creative writing. Do not mistake it for truth. All opinions are mine and not that of my numerous employers.

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