Good mooooorning Holloway...
Oct. 10th, 2004 01:14 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
i_kenderYes, yes, I know... it's a tad early. I'll try not to shout. So... you might be wondering why I'm up. *grins sheepishly*
Well you see, there was this really good party in Holloway hosted by my gorgeous and wonderful friend Liz King. She is yet another stunning redhead (they keep turning up in my life for some reason... hey, I'm not complaining!), an architect, and an old friend from boarding school. I hadn't seen her in three years... (gosh, has it really been that long? Where's this decade gone... It's like the Seventies all over again...) but we used to write the most intense and amazing letters to each other, like our very own mutual admiration society. I used to write her poems. She's one of the first people who ever believed in me, and I will always love her for that.
So, as much fun as the party was, I hadn't planned on staying over. And lots of others ended up crashing, so space was at a premium. Didn't fancy the long double nightbus trek back to Isleworth. Lightbulb: I'll just stay up and catch the first tube. Only Liz crashed early; my head was killing me; and the (two) other people I knew already had gone home. Bored. Oh so bored. I should never have sobered up. Fuck that, I should never *be* sober! Hmmph... So by 4:30 I was really really bored. I thought I'd wander out, pick up a paracetemol breakfast, and hover for the first tube.
Only... yup, you're sharp this morning! ;) It's not til 7:04. Oh long dark very cold night. Wandering up and down Holloway Road. Ho hum. I only popped in here because I was cold, there's an hour to go and they serve coffee. Ah, caffeine, my intravenous narcotic friend.
And of course, there's no way I'd go back in because, well, I don't do that.
Oh yeah, and the party went great but for one little thing which really pissed me off! I left my wine in the kitchen, came back and it was open, of course, I would expect nothing else at a house party. But Liz was just heading upstairs and I was following so I picked it off the table and nimbly followed her, with a stylish twirl, like a slinky mountain cat. (Roawrrr!)
And then at the top of the stairs, I felt someone GRAB the bottle from behind me, and proceed to attempt to yank it out of my hands! Someone (natch) claiming it was theirs. (So I checked the label, just to make sure. Yup, that's the one, down to the little yellow price tag. That's my bottle.)
"That's my bottle", I said, walking back downstairs to discuss it with Evil Wine Claimer and his Grabby Grabby Friend. Being the polite and rational human being that I am.
The evil glares that followed pissed me off just as much. The long and short of it, while adamantly stating that it was still my wine, I gracefully conceeded I didn't mind sharing; poured myself a glass and handed the rest of the bottle over. Smiling. Through gritted teeth.
Look, it's a common enough misunderstanding, and the kind of thing that happens all the time at house parties. However, I find it rude in the extreme to grab anything from someone's hand, a view I've held since, oh, kindergarten. I find a polite verbal enquiry or even a tap on the shoulder works so much better.
(And yes, I realise I'm now advocating politeness in complete contradiction to my comments last week, but nyah boo sucks this is my page so I can be as big a hypocrite as I like so there :P )
Wow that coffee has really kicked in. I'm wide awake. I just can't believe how long it's taken/going to take to get home! Sheesh... times like this I hate living in the shadow of the flight path, way on the edge of nowhere.
I had a good time tonight. It's been a while since I've been to one of these things on my own. I've been out of circulation. I did ok I think. No one screamed and ran away from me. Which was nice. They were too busy flirting with me. Which was nice.
Ok, this post is getting a little long, I can't format til tomorrow, and I don't want to clog peoples browsers, so I'll go buzz at terrified clubbers until dawn. I might even sing at them.
*Evil cackle...*
Well you see, there was this really good party in Holloway hosted by my gorgeous and wonderful friend Liz King. She is yet another stunning redhead (they keep turning up in my life for some reason... hey, I'm not complaining!), an architect, and an old friend from boarding school. I hadn't seen her in three years... (gosh, has it really been that long? Where's this decade gone... It's like the Seventies all over again...) but we used to write the most intense and amazing letters to each other, like our very own mutual admiration society. I used to write her poems. She's one of the first people who ever believed in me, and I will always love her for that.
So, as much fun as the party was, I hadn't planned on staying over. And lots of others ended up crashing, so space was at a premium. Didn't fancy the long double nightbus trek back to Isleworth. Lightbulb: I'll just stay up and catch the first tube. Only Liz crashed early; my head was killing me; and the (two) other people I knew already had gone home. Bored. Oh so bored. I should never have sobered up. Fuck that, I should never *be* sober! Hmmph... So by 4:30 I was really really bored. I thought I'd wander out, pick up a paracetemol breakfast, and hover for the first tube.
Only... yup, you're sharp this morning! ;) It's not til 7:04. Oh long dark very cold night. Wandering up and down Holloway Road. Ho hum. I only popped in here because I was cold, there's an hour to go and they serve coffee. Ah, caffeine, my intravenous narcotic friend.
And of course, there's no way I'd go back in because, well, I don't do that.
Oh yeah, and the party went great but for one little thing which really pissed me off! I left my wine in the kitchen, came back and it was open, of course, I would expect nothing else at a house party. But Liz was just heading upstairs and I was following so I picked it off the table and nimbly followed her, with a stylish twirl, like a slinky mountain cat. (Roawrrr!)
And then at the top of the stairs, I felt someone GRAB the bottle from behind me, and proceed to attempt to yank it out of my hands! Someone (natch) claiming it was theirs. (So I checked the label, just to make sure. Yup, that's the one, down to the little yellow price tag. That's my bottle.)
"That's my bottle", I said, walking back downstairs to discuss it with Evil Wine Claimer and his Grabby Grabby Friend. Being the polite and rational human being that I am.
The evil glares that followed pissed me off just as much. The long and short of it, while adamantly stating that it was still my wine, I gracefully conceeded I didn't mind sharing; poured myself a glass and handed the rest of the bottle over. Smiling. Through gritted teeth.
Look, it's a common enough misunderstanding, and the kind of thing that happens all the time at house parties. However, I find it rude in the extreme to grab anything from someone's hand, a view I've held since, oh, kindergarten. I find a polite verbal enquiry or even a tap on the shoulder works so much better.
(And yes, I realise I'm now advocating politeness in complete contradiction to my comments last week, but nyah boo sucks this is my page so I can be as big a hypocrite as I like so there :P )
Wow that coffee has really kicked in. I'm wide awake. I just can't believe how long it's taken/going to take to get home! Sheesh... times like this I hate living in the shadow of the flight path, way on the edge of nowhere.
I had a good time tonight. It's been a while since I've been to one of these things on my own. I've been out of circulation. I did ok I think. No one screamed and ran away from me. Which was nice. They were too busy flirting with me. Which was nice.
Ok, this post is getting a little long, I can't format til tomorrow, and I don't want to clog peoples browsers, so I'll go buzz at terrified clubbers until dawn. I might even sing at them.
*Evil cackle...*
