LIVING
LIVING
OCTOBER 2009
THE PARTY!!
I recently celebrated a
milestone birthday as did our oldest son and decided that I’d
like to have a joint party on the island to which we could
invite family and friends. In my fantasy world, I conjured
images of my son and his friends, past and present sitting on
one table, giggling at the absurdity of adults dancing whilst
the English looked on in awe at the fiesta of national dancing
and in this fantasy, I am 5 kilos lighter because of my
systematic work-out at the local gymnasium and there is a whole
grogramme of people I know personally, all singing or playing
music, a contribution to the celebration of what? Getting older?
No, staying alive more like, surviving even!
In reality however, things are
often very different. Let’s start with the invitations.. I
picked an image of champagne bubbles from the internet on our
home computer inside which, my daughter would paste a white box
and type in Greek the simple details such as time, place
etcetera. This was simple enough but the printer was in the
office and she couldn’t e-mail it as an attachment so several
days later, I asked my son to quickly select an image of a
champagne bottle, create 20 on a page and then print out a
couple of sheets. Later, my daughter and I were literally
cutting out images and gluing them onto card. I kept mis-spelling
some of the venue details and resorted to asking her to write
them in pencil so that I could write over them in ink. When
ready, it was time to distribute them. The first house hadn’t a
letter box and although we knew our friends were in, there was
no bell on the exterior electric gate to capture their
attention. The second house had a letter box but it was rusted
at the bottom and each time my daughter placed it inside, it
fell out the other end. The gate was locked so she tried
climbing over the fence; this attracted the attention of our
friends who believed someone might be breaking into their house
late one stormy Friday evening. They were not at all surprised
to find it was the English woman and her daughter. Several days
later and we still hadn’t distributed them all so I gave a batch
to Mr. L and instructed him to give them to a bunch of friends
who were town based. He remembered 2 out of 5 which left three
families feeling quite forgotten.
Two weeks before the event,
our son announced it was totally un -cool to have a party with
one’s mother. Fortunately, the invitations were not even ready
by then and my gang of English girlfriends was possibly relieved
that they could travel together un burdened by disgruntled
teenagers.
I selected a dress hurriedly
from a local shop, pale pink silk and tie-dye blurred circles;
it looked a little large but I was assured it was a one size
garment. A few days before the party, I tried it on and received
the vote from the children that it was voluminous and looked
like an elegant nightie. On closer inspection, I located a label
which boasted number 46. I am NOT a size 46 and on a good day I
can fit into a generous 40, particularly if I have been working
out. (I haven’t ‘worked out’ for 3 years and the only working
out I did prior to the party was to work out who should sit
where and with whom on the night).
My good friend A rushed round
to rescue the dress in order to perform emergency surgery, which
was successful. I also happened to find an elastic belt in my
daughter’s dressing up bag which transformed the dress into
something more like a garmentworn by a Christmas fairy. Shoes! I
needed shoes! So before meeting the gang from the bus-stop in
Piraeus, I slipped into a shop yelling;" Not too high, elegant
and size 41, what have you got? "5 minutes later, I flew from
the store with new strappy sandals, sparkling and lethally
heeled.
My parents arrived 4 days
before the event and were dispatched to peel onions and potatoes
in preparation for the dinner I was to host for the gang and my
family the night before the party. They also cleaned my garden
furniture and manned the office for a couple of hours but sadly,
didn’t have time to paint my balcony!
The gang arrived as planned on
the Thursday night and as they were staying in apartments above
the taverna where the party was to be held, they commandeered
the decorations. The tables looked lovely.
Music!!!! I begged my children
to create a disc with a cocktail of disco music to play when the
musicians took a break but they ended up fighting over computer
usage and music style. Mr. L bought a 70s CD which we promptly
lost at the taverna. When the musicians took a break, my boys
had disappeared, leaving me to cope with the industrial size CD
player which I was unable to operate. Despite this, the
musicians tried hard and lost themselves into their own genre of
music playing, perhaps not quite what the locals smash plates to
but enough to tempt some into dancing. My friend D, one of the
gang who sings like a nightingale, stood up to sing some Beatles
and James Taylor ballads. The guests were spellbound by her
voice and she even managed to get them all to sing along.!!
I didn’t dance because I
couldn’t; my heels were far too high for my untrained calf
muscles and when I walked, I held onto the backs of chairs like
a disabled fairy
The food was excellent, the
wine plentiful and the atmosphere relaxed. We stayed up until
03.30 and finally slept, drunk on good company. I will remember
this party for various reasons but mostly because of the warmth
that is generated from having family and friends around for a
few hours, simply enjoying being with each other.
Cheers! Here’s to real life!!
Alison Lorentzos
copyright 2009
