BLOG 32 - PHARTAY!!!!

“I like to have a martini, two at the very most - at three I'm under the table, at four, I'm under the host!” Dorothy Parker American writer and poet

PHARTAY!!!

Ah, I’ve done it again… I have agreed to have a party in my house that I am neither the host of nor the cause for celebration.

I last did this in December and although that party was fabulous promised myself never again. If one is not the centre of attention at party in ones on home… then what is the point?! But …even though on that cold December night I struggled home from the exhibition venue where I had worked a 10 hr day to find the host of the party on my doorstep with nibbles and booze (when I was thinking “hot bath, bed”) - I had a fabulous time. Good company, dancing, food, and cocktails… yes it was a Mid week Night… but what was not to love? As my non-guests performed stage whispered goodbyes in my front garden at 3am and I closed the door a feeling of wellbeing soaked up the alcohol. Even as I stumbled around doing the clearing up.

The next day as the lack of sleep kicked in, I rethought the whole premise and figured out how a party had happened in my house when I was neither host or subject.

1. Flattery – “ We could have it elsewhere but Your house is the BEST – it is sooo cool for parties”

2. Manipulation – “It’s not like you’ll have to do anything – we’ll bring all the food and booze”

I’d love to say that there was more to it than that, but there really wasn’t! Tell me my house is great and tell me I don’t have to shell out – and hey presto – you have yourself a venue F.O.C!

But the party was fabulous, everyone enjoyed themselves, especially me! Plus, I didn’t have to provide a thing… and when everyone left I was up 6 bottles of spirits, untold bottles of wine and quite a few mixers! Saved me a fortune on my Xmas supermarket dash!. I also inherited a selection of nibbles that would see me right through the yuletide period. The only downside was at 3am I closed the door to a house full of party debris to be cleared before bedtime… and I had a 10 hr working day in front of me that was starting at 8.

Like I said… it was in the midst of that day, that I rethought the whole thing and said chalk that one down to experience but no… not again.

And yet on Saturday (like 2mro) a slew of people will arrive at my house as I am providing the venue for a party to celebrate my mate getting married abroad. He is the host and the subject of the party – and I’m the Venue. And no… no flattery, no manipulation… I offered. It made sense, my place is bigger, has better transport links… and it’s not like I hadn’t done this before. But hadn’t I promised never again….DOH!

You see the problem is I LIKE having parties. It really doesn’t matter if the party is mine or not… I just like the look of my home with people all dressed up and sitting in places where normally there is no one. The stairs in particular… I love threading my way through people on my stairs. I like the dining room being transformed into a dancefloor, I like the living room turned into a chill out zone, I love the gossiping in the kitchen and the bottlenecks that happen when people congregate in the hall. I like the clouds of smoke billowing from the gazebo in the back and the echoing sound the chatter makes in the garden. I love it all.

I had my first real party at Univercity. Having tired of typical student parties held in Halls with nothing more than a Watney Party 7 and a couple of bottles of Mateus Rose, I longed for the under-graduate parties I had read about in literature. Of course recreating the Oxbridge splendour found in books like Bridesheads Revisted was gonna be uphill at the Univercity of Plymouth – but I knew we could aim higher than jeans, tees and beer.

Students were (as far as accommodation was concerned) in the gutter, but I at least was looking up at the stars! I was determined not to live with limitations. I selected my student accommodation solely because the living room was semi circular – the building followed the curve of street. I knew straight away that it would make a fabulous party room. The accommodation also had a staircase that lead to the flat roof so that in the event of a fire we would cross to the next door roof to aide our escape. But I saw it as a roof terrace and whilst my fellow students busied themselves riding around town in shopping trolleys, I stole Martini Parasols, benches and tables from the local pubs and recreated Cap Ferret on our roof.

Yes (I hasten to add), the place was at the wrong end of town – opposite the bus station and in front of the boat moorings. It was quite a walk into college in the mornings and a dangerous walk home at night (as every vagrant in the South West seemed to kip down at the bus station). It also had a couple of sensual issues… mainly affecting your ears and nose. If the roar of bus engines from the station in front of the place didn’t keeps you awake, the clanking of rigs of the boats moored to the rear would. And if the noise didn’t get you, the smell would – the five bedroom/ two story accommodation, was above of The Ganges Indian Restaurant. This meant the pungent aromas of what ever was cooking down there invaded the flat – day and night. BUT it was large, it had a huge half moon living room and (thanks to me) had a roof terrace. It took a bit to talk my co-sharers into it – but the five of us proudly took over the lease.

I took full responsibility for our house warming party. A fancy dress ball. Ok that is a bit grandiose… it was a dots and stripes party… girls wore dots, guys wore stripes. For a month there was little other talk on campus as people pillaged the local second hand stores to find something to wear and others took to the sewing machine. The party was a huge success – everyone came in costume (who knew Plymouth had so many ballgowns with dots on them and that prisoners REALLY did have striped pjs!), my flat mates and I made up a host of shockingly bad cocktails (well… we were 18!) , the music played and people danced and got drunk. Couples wandered up to the roof terrace and fuelled by alcohol the view over the boat moorings at night suddenly DID look like the South of France. The party became legend.

It gave me the confidence to know that setting the bar high is no bad thing when it comes to parties.

Of course as the years have gone on since graduation there have been MANY parties. I think I have marked every event of my life with one. And yes I have always preferred to be the host. Not that I don’t like being a guest, but inevitably at other parties, there is not enough food, or the booze runs out, or the music fails, or there is a fight or… well the pit falls are endless. Rather than being overwhelmed I quite like that fact that so many people trust me with an entire evening of their life.

As I said, there have been a LOT of parties. Life events generate them, but the changing of the seasons, or an important sporting event or just the fact it is a Saturday has proven as good a reason as any. I do rather like a dress-code, corny as that may be. Over the years there have been more than a few: ‘The outfit that you bought but have never had the guts to wear’ being one of more recent favourites but I don’t think there are many I haven’t had. I think it all goes back to making the party seem like an event – it helps if people have to think about the party before they get there… builds commitment as well as anticipation. I have to admit I like most parties being hosted in my home, but I’ve been known to hire venues in my time – boats, pubs and stately homes have occurred once or twice but you can’t beat a good old marquee in the backyard! I like to use my guests abilities where possible – I recall a party where some of the guests were pro-singers, so to wind the party down the DJ quit and the guests did a really great chill out version of ‘Sittin on a Dock on the Bay’ that would have made Otis proud. On the other hand, I’ve used my guests ability to sing to get things going – I recall at a BBQ getting a guy to start the Karaoke which resulted in a huge crowd forming around him… he was so good they even started throwing underwear at him! But I haven’t stopped at just the singers of my acquaintance – practically everyone has a party turn that can be utilised. Also I do like to have outrageous touches that people remember – someone demonstrating propalastics on bananas being a more memorable one/ the rules of the party list coving the entire hall way being another. I love the dramas at my parties, standard rule is that you must be prepared for the fact that one relationship will die at your party and at least one will get started (so have tissues for one and condoms for the other!). I like the fact that you have to anticipate anything a guest could throw at you… you must have nurofen, pro-plus and plasters… in fact a whole first aid kit, you must buy more loo roll and kitchen wipes than the army, and you must brief at least TWO local cab firms so that they have drivers local when people wanna go home. It’s a little more than just rolling up the carpet and having plenty of ice. But I love being host.

I have picked every home I have had since Uni, on it’s ability to be a good venue. I don’t drive but you’d not know that from my obsession with off street parking. Ditto that for my obsession with having a decent sized garden when I don’t have a clue on horticulture! I obsess about party space with each place - In my time I have slept in the tiniest bedrooms just so I could have the largest living room for the budget! Once I bought a studio flat (IE no bedroom at all) just because the living room was huge as was the garden! Poor Estate agent couldn’t understand why I wanted to buy the freehold of a whole building just to secure sole use of a garden when he had two bedroom properties in my budget!

But that was then and this is now. I am much more sensible now. I have a proper house with carpets that are fitted and don’t roll away. I have things on my walls and shelves that aren’t too easily packed up. I even have a washing line in the garden now. I have weaned my self off party throwing, I’m down to just one a year now. I actually use my house to live in.

Except…. I hear people talk about parties and I think… ummmm my place is bigger, my place is easier to get to… and before I know it I’m saying “You know what… why don’t you have it at mine”

And so tomorrow this house will be filled with the yabbering of people I don’t really know that well. I will have to say excuse me about three times before I can fully climb the stairs to the loo. There will be clouds of smoke billowing from the smokers in the garden. The music will be loud, the drink will flow – and we will all eat of paper plates.

And you know what……… I CAN’T WAIT!!!!!