AM. Crap weekend. Nephew’s eight birthday was a bit of a damp squib. It turned out to be in a feckin’ play centre so there were no opportunities for sitting in a corner getting plastered and eyeing up the hot dads of other party goers. One of the party supervisors was easy enough on the eye, but there wasn’t even a game of Musical Statues which would’ve allowed me to freeze in various bending over type seductive poses. What’s all this play centre shite anyway? When I was a kid you were doing well to get a measly bowl of jelly and ice cream before having a quick bop to Pinkie and Perky and then being pushed out the door with a crumbling piece of store bought chocolate Swiss Roll wrapped in a napkin. Of course, if you were very posh you had your party in McDonald’s and got sent home with a Ronald McDonald pencil case, but these A-list dalliances were few and far between.
PM. Eimear informing me that play centres are the bottom of the rung. Last week she went to a kids’ party that featured three different styles of bouncy castle (which were all in keeping with the party’s colour scheme of pink and cool lavender), a three course meal involving monogrammed serviettes and magic tricks courtesy of Keith Barry. Not only that but those who were triumphant at the party games won a free spray tan. Christ, I thought it was exotic when Tara Doyle’s dad welcomed us to her ninth birthday party wearing a Fozzy Bear mask.
AM. Feeling inadequate. Even eight year olds lead a more high class and refined social life than I do, need to inject some sophisticated type hob-nobbing into my existence, stat!
PM. Just been moaning to Owen. He has suggested that we host a wine party in the house. In short, we play host, invite ten friends, get them to cough up some cash each, then two wine experts arrive loaded with drink and we all get to sit around and have a ‘tasting’. So we get to be sophisticated and inebriated without a winding taxi queue in sight? Sold!
AM. Very excited about my wine night! Just think, I will soon be able to actively engage in the whole wine tasting bollocks when I go to a fancy restaurant, at last I will have the respect of stuffy up-their-arse waiters who hitherto have looked down on me for asking for ‘something that’s around 14%’.
PM. Just back from Starbucks. Sent back my latte; there just wasn’t enough froth on it: “No, no, no, this will never do! Make me another one my good man, chop chop!”
AM. Deliberating with colleagues over what food to serve at my sophisticated wine party, it must be elegant but simple.
PM. Got it! Vindaloo!
AM. Just been talking to the wine expert who has suggested that the likes of crackers, cheese and fruit may make for a more fitting compliment to the flavours in the wine, but of course… what was I thinking!?
PM. Right, off to get some cocktail sticks and will then make a start on the pineapple hedgehog.