Each to their own

Parties are strange things. We went down to our village pub yesterday & were told all about the New Years' Eve party that had been held there recently. Only regulars were invited. The barman who was telling us is only young, still in his teens I'd guess. He was full of enthusiasm, showing the photos that had been taken. All the staff were in fancy dress, he himself as a panda. It was packed. Music, alcohol & bonhomie flowed. Dancing went on until around 2.30am.

We suddenly felt old. The idea of such packed frivolity & frenzy did nothing for us. The Fox had been invited to stay - he'd popped down to the pub while I was having an afternoon nap that day. He felt no regrets about not having stayed. 


Part of it is we just don't have the stamina you have as a teenager. The barman was excitedly fizzing off in every direction just telling us about the party. There's no way we could have kept up, no way we would have wanted to, and we certainly wouldn't have wanted to cope with the after-effects of such a riotous evening. No, a quiet night at home, just the two us, in the company of some champagne & some French chanson, is much more our scene.


To be honest the idea of a party has always had a greater attraction than the reality for me, and that applied even when I was a teenager. I can enjoy a dinner party with a table full of family or friends, but this sort of big event no. It is always too noisy to have a conversation, too crushed to really have a good dance (not that I can do that anyhow now). No, I would retreat into the quietest corner & hope some other mouse would care to join me.

I have no regrets that's one party we missed. I'm just glad everyone seems to have had a grand time, while we stayed at home in peace. Each to their own.