It was Saturday, a couple of weeks ago. For whatever reason, we were both a little low on fuel, but we sailed over to Tescos, bought the booze (and some food to prop ourselves up with), and — with 20 minutes to go before people were allowed to start arriving — we decided on a last-ditch furniture rearrangement.
And it actually worked! (I put it down to helping Mr Bridger move house twice in six months)
We got the old sofa into the dining room, hence creating some much-needed strutting space in the living room. (This was to have interesting consequences for me later in the night, but that's for later in the story.)
After the first guest pointed out the blunder of us not having any lime or soda, she and I headed back to my ...favourite supermarket to right this terrile wrong. We solved it with organic limes, in case the lack of detail is killing you.
Back at the house, about a half an hour, six limes, two bottles of soda, a bottle of tonic (for me) and two-toothbrushes-for-the-price-of-one later, people were arriving in force. Lord Simon had escaped his wedding technical support duties, so that important box was ticked for the Aussie, and H&F, Jumper, Chilled (a.k.a. Guitar) Chris, Rob (Ah, now I remember why I wasn't so energetic), and various others had already made their entrance.
I, however, still hadn't showered or shaved that day, having only got up at about 3:00 to get into town, in order to buy Age's present and a new shirt for me (mandatory for parties), meet him and Cool Jen for coffee, and then get home to eat. I therefore did the Triple-S, then joined the party people in the dining area (now with added sofa).
We're talking gone 9:30 by the time I get back to the only-just-begun glass of Pinot Grigio that I left in order to source lime and soda. So I'm feeling a little behind in proceedings, but not so bad I go quiet.
Anyroad, LS had once again pulled out the stops and brought over four lights and two pretty good speakers to give the whole thing some more cred. (I'd warned the Nice Neighbours two nights before, supplying them with some Bordeaux (adults) and a fancy chocolate cake (kids) by way of advance apology). So he dragged me into the living room where I saw, and greatly appreciated, the whole setup.
As usual, though, I missed the crucial point where he went from being a sociable, entirely-in-control chap to being a drunken monkey. If I'm on the same level as him, I can handle it just fine. The theory that the Aussie and I are pursuing is that he went a bit wonky in the presence of a load of people he doesn't know. Jumper called him something the following week which rhymes with "Bob". Which I understood — I could see him shrinking into his shell at every encounter between the two — but feels odd, as LS and I get on grand. Anyway, not all your friends are going to get on with each other. I'm learning that lesson more and more. It's not all one big happy family. All you can do is enjoy their company yourself.
So, the craic was good. Because of the previous night's irresponsibility (well, fuck-it — it was a Friday night with good company), I slid straight from tiredness into drunken energy, and ended up doing a lot of dancing. This is where it becomes a little hazy, but I do remember the following elements:
- LS taking me aside to ask me various questions with quite serious tones about himself and the Aussie
- me desperately trying not to get involved any more than I already am — they're two of my best friends in Guildford, and see them more than most
- LS setting fire to the hair of some visiting bar boy he liked
- The Aussie, rather understandably, being distinctly upset with boyfriend-based, albeit JD-induced, hair pyromania, and telling him this
- Me naffing off to phone the Cullybackey man, and being somewhat taken aback when Dr R answered it!
- Me staying on the phone for about 5 minutes
- Going back inside to find the Aussie in a quiet mood
- LS sitting on the sofa in the dining room showing hardcore twink movies to the bar boys in what is possible the least subtle attempt ever to gauge the tacklability of another bloke
- Rob having gone home, and LS trying to persuade me that what I needed to do was text him. The Aussie assured me this would be a Bad Idea?
- Dancing like a loose-limbed wonder with two of the Aussie's female, very good craic workmates
- Dancing, randomly, with one of the bar boys, who was clearly going through something of an identity crisis, if the swings between his camp dancing and then very macho non-dancing were any indication (and they were).
- Sobering up ...a little (wouldn't like to overstate this)
Then the morals kicked in. Feck.
Having been sat beside him, rather than looking straight at him, I hadn't realised he was actually quite shit-faced. When I moved around to, er.. see his face, let's say, I realised. And that was the tin hat on it &mdhash; there was no way I was going to push him to do anything now. Best case scenario, it would be taking advantage; worst case scenario, there could've been nasty charges. Anyroad, I thought that was that. I think Age told him to get his coat (the guy could barely stand by now, it was that bad), helped him into it, and he bounced his way off the walls to the front door, slurring something in a heavy Swedish accent.
LS, the Aussie and I held a drunken conference at Si's insistence in the hall, and as we were doing so, the doorbell rang again. Scan bar boy. He came in and the Aussie sat him down on the living room sofa. Age and I had both had a feeling he'd come back to talk in secret to some kindred spirits. As I was the one who'd been planning on chancing my arm, and as LS was not being subtle in any way, I escorted him out to the dining room to talk about it out of earshot.
So, after we'd been sent out for a while, the Aussie summons us back in for an announcement from bar boy. I even remember him telling bar boy that he was amongst friends, but he said nothing. I rewound back to the night after the old veggie restaurant outing a long time ago, and could understand. Bar boy was not quite ready yet. Fair enough: Mr Wait-til-you're-27 wasn't exactly going to condescend...
So I got out the sleeping bag, and we cobbled a bed of sorts together for him on the sofa bed that he wasn't about to get up off in order for us to make it an actual bed.
He was gone by the next morning. Hope he's alright, poor guy.
