Halfway Home

I’ve spent the last few days recovering from a combination of finishing the current phase of a major project, and a truly fantastic party that I ended up going to on Saturday night. It was one of those unexpected appointments that come up at the last minute – Anna mentioned that she was going to a birthday party of one of her friends from her Book Group, and did I want to come along? I did my usual dance of “Umm, not sure”, especially considering there was (Shock! Horror!) going to be an actual taxi journey involved. And then I realised that I was being kind of dumb – I’m in need of all the fun I can get right now, so turning down the option of a party because it might involve spending a little money was, I realised, rather ludicrous. So, Anna and I headed along at about 8pm-ish, and the general plan was that we’d probably be there until about 11 o’clock, or maybe stretch it until midnight.

And of course, we ended up leaving at 3.30 in the morning.

It shows what a combination of red wine, butterscotch schnaps, vodka and lots of cake will do (not at the same time, obviously – I’m not quite as demented as I look). I mean, the first hour was a little awkward, as parties where you really don’t know that many people often are, and I did my best to mingle, and chat, and it all seemed nice if a little polite… and then a funny thing happenned. It doesn’t happen every time I get drunk – sometimes I don’t even need to be that drunk to do it – basically, the barriers come down, and suddenly I’m not a nervous wreck anymore. It’s one of the things that I think always surprises people when they get to experience both sides of me – they can’t understand how someone who can act like the most ludicrously confidant and absurd person on the face of the planet can also be a jittery, nervy guy with a severe lack of self-confidence. It’s a strange thing about me and people – I sometimes feel like I don’t function well without an audience, and yet I’m habitually intimidated by the idea of having to go out and get one – I’m great in situations if they naturally evolve, but I find it really, really difficult to make them happen on my own. And the fact that I spend about 95% of my life on my own at the moment doesn’t exactly help with that, of course.

But safe to say, I had something of an impact. Anna reported to me later that apparently lots of people were coming up to her and drunkenly saying things like “We love Saxon!” and “You actually live with him?!?” People were either entertained or deeply puzzled – which, frankly, is an effect I’m perfectly happy with. I danced an awful lot, I talked to lots of people, I was exceptionally silly, and it’s one of the best nights I’ve had in a very long time (and certainly beat the hell out of the All-Nighter the previous week). And apparently, I’m officially invited to any parties they have from now on, which is lovely. Would have been nice if I hadn’t woken up the next morning (well, later that morning) feeling comprehensively dreadful and as if I’d just been run over by a truck, of course. But frankly, it was worth it.

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