This evening I went out to eat. A group of us meet at a fairly local restaurant once a month from April to November and have dinner together. This has been running for about ten years, though the membership has varied somewhat, and was set up by a friend who is the retired headmistress of a girls’ private school in Surrey. She is a born organiser and everything is planned to the nth degree.
She was not there tonight, as she only returned today from a holiday, so she had delegated the organisation to one of our number, who is a near neighbour of hers. On several previous occasions I’ve deputised, and in this event I promptly chuck the rules out of the window and allow modest middle-age/class mayhem. But the new deputy was flattered and impressed by the immensity of the responsibility, and we toed the line. To an extent.
I watched myself, as if from a height, playing to an audience. I made ’em laugh. I made ’em wonder what I was on (sober as a sober person, m’lud). I teased and flattered. I never know quite what comes over me when that happens. Although we are a sociable lot, my end of the table was more reserved and I know that I start just to get the conversation going, to relax people. But some of them don’t know me very well (we’ve recently changed restaurants, which changed the geographic circle of members somewhat) and, I can’t help wondering, do they think I’m really like that? For, as you know, I am really very well behaved and a modest little thing.
It’s pouring tonight. Raining Pugsleypuss and Oz.
It’s the rush of *having* an audience. I like that kind of rush, myself.
Now, why April to November, I wonder?
Most of us are quite old, the majority in their 70s and 80s, and they prefer not to turn out on winter nights. Quite straightforward, really.
I know I said middle-age mayhem, but one doesn’t think of the age of ones friends!
z the entertainer. sassy, worldly z.
but sober z? am going off to ponder.
Oi! I don’t need to drink, you know!
I think you are just great, z…the life and soul of the party! No stuffiness, no pomposity with you, and you enjoy a good laugh. Bring it on, Girl!
I want to be at your end of the table…..
I’m not sure if the table-dancing was wise.
Pugsleypuss and Oz means a short shower presumably!
I’m with Martin, and want to sit at your end of the table. I think it would be a hoot to be at a table of modest middle age/class mayhem…
In such sparkling company, angels, I would be starry-eyed yet completely overawed.
Murph, a couple of short streaks of piss, I presume?
(http://razorbladeoflife.blogspot.com/2007/03/ill-go-for-p-bob.html)
Zoe, will you never cease to amaze??
I most certainly hope not, darling. I surprise myself, quite often – usually in a pinkly embarrassing way of course, but I have a short attention span and need constant amusement.