Parties can be fraught with potential doom. Will we have enough drinks to offer people? What is the right amount of food to offer? Will anyone come? Are there other people with cooler parties happening on the same night that will trump mine?
Still, it’s not often you turn 30 so I braved it, bought beer, baked brownies, made a Spotify playlist and rigged up the stereo system to play it, invited as many people as I could think of that I like, kept pestering them with e-mails to remind them the party was happening and then I waited.
There is nothing worse than the bit of the evening between the official party start time, and the time the first person arrives. Everything’s ready and all you need is people for the party to be a success. This particular party started at 8pm, so I was expecting people realistically from 9.30 onwards. But the joy the people who arrived at 8.30 were greeted with was resounding. All the preparations swung into gear – chilled bottles were opened, food was put in the oven, coats and bags were taken and gently placed in a back bedroom.
It was a great night. Lots of people came and stayed and mixed and mingled and danced and chatted. Even though our kitchen is tiny, that’s where the majority of people seemed to end up, so much so that at one point it looked like a world record attempt to see how many people you can fit in two square metres of space was well underway. We invented a game called the 30 second challenge to get people fully introduced – this involved putting a tea towel into the microwave and cooking it for 30 seconds while each person took their turn to describe themselves to the other kitchen residents. I’ve never seen a cooked tea towel before, but the smell of burning when it overcooked highlighted the fact that maybe someone could have just used the timer on their phone.
But where’s the fun in that?
The last guests left at 3am, I went to bed at 4am, we had one red wine spillage, one person sick in the sink, accumulated 15 bottles of wine and two bottles of champagne, were left with about 50 bottles of beer, filled three maybe four recycling bins with rubbish, had two burnt tea towels on the line and a carpet that looked like Lot’s wife had saltily disintegrated all over it.
In short, I felt very loved and wanted – a great party.