This time last year "the party" at my place was for St Pat's (not quite on St Pat's, because it fell on a Friday last year, and Saturday is always a better day for parties). And a fine time it was. My cooking endeavours (lamb stew and leek & potato soup) were extravagantly well-received (unlike this year's Jamaican efforts, which drew a little carping from some quarters!). I got very "tired & emotional", and attempted to sing 'The Wild Rover' down the phone to my absent friend, The Chairman. The party got a late 'second wind' when a couple of my stoner buddies turned up near the end with some very good weed, which we smoked out on the balcony, accompanied by a bottle of (fake, but what the hell?!) Jameson's. Even so, I managed to clear everyone out before my psycho neighbour downstairs could get around to complaining about the noise (he might have been away that night, I think). And - for some reason now forgotten, perhaps never understood even at the time - the last dozen or so of us to depart all wore flowers in our hair.
The year before that, the nominal excuse had been my girlfriend The Buddhist's birthday in April.... so the date for "the party" is creeping earlier every year. Hell, this year's was supposed to have been on February 3rd rather than March 3rd. I suppose next year I'll be looking at doing something in January.....
Luckily, someone else is throwing the party tonight. Plastic Paddy time again!!
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