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I went yesterday to my first (and only?) Christmas party this year. It took place in London's Southeast, supposedly near a maximum security prison, where the government has permission to shoot down any flying objects above it. The house in question stood quietly near a park, not too far from Plumstead Station. When I got off the train, I bumped into The Gay American. We walked together to the house, past Nee Naws and desolate subway paths.
There was enough food in the party to feed a troop of monkeys (or of escaped prisoners.) The hosts, Rosie and Steve, had mellow Christmas songs going, malt beer boiling and plenty of Pound Stretcher gifts to make everyone happy. More guests arrived after me, games were played, an entire bottle of screwtop red wine was drunk (by yours truly), and many many slices of carrots chewed. I managed to win a set of candles, which is fortunate since I think Suzi had planned all along for me to have them.
Suddenly, like all goth parties go, people had dropped their manners and were singing along to *Heart* at the top of their lungs. Suzi and I retired to the sofa underneath the stairs and gossiped, which seems like something we always do in parties nowadays. Paper hats were worn, pictures snapped, but thankfully everyone kept Christmas' spirit in mind and didn't expose their genitals to the room (at least while I was there). Bedrooms remained safely off limits for Lesbian shenanigans, windows remained locked against daredevils and nobody tried to crash the party despite the front door being left open for some fresh air.
Around 11:45, Suzi, myself and Aden left the party and caught a bus to Greenwich North tube. Plans were made for a future goth excursion to Brasil, where I'll be able to take everyone to Sao Paulo's one and only goth club Madame Sata, as well as the beach and my mom's farm (where the goths will be able to pet my mom's cows and horses, and breathe some good Brasilian fresh air.)
I gave my quick goodbyes to Aden and Suzi and ran to catch the last Jubilee train heading west. To my drunken shock, as I walked into the carriage I spotted Doris sitting down with some people. Doris was the first girl I became friends with when I was 17 years old and had just moved to Hong Kong. During my first weeks in high school, she sat with me in the canteen, as well as in homeroom, and was basically that friend we all have before we naturally find the crowd who will turn out to be our real friends. I did the shitty thing and dumped Doris, though we always remained in good terms -- even after she moved away to London, to a private school, but came back to Hong Kong on holidays and dated sailors. I remember going to a football match with Doris and one of her sailors -- a guy whose dream was to be a hairdresser (!?) -- and having a really good time. Years went by and I lost touch with her... so yeah, she was in the Tube last night... and I completely avoided her. I was tired, drunk, and she looked different, with her hair long and dyed blonde. But it was her. She got off at Green Park station and walked away without looking back.
There was enough food in the party to feed a troop of monkeys (or of escaped prisoners.) The hosts, Rosie and Steve, had mellow Christmas songs going, malt beer boiling and plenty of Pound Stretcher gifts to make everyone happy. More guests arrived after me, games were played, an entire bottle of screwtop red wine was drunk (by yours truly), and many many slices of carrots chewed. I managed to win a set of candles, which is fortunate since I think Suzi had planned all along for me to have them.
Suddenly, like all goth parties go, people had dropped their manners and were singing along to *Heart* at the top of their lungs. Suzi and I retired to the sofa underneath the stairs and gossiped, which seems like something we always do in parties nowadays. Paper hats were worn, pictures snapped, but thankfully everyone kept Christmas' spirit in mind and didn't expose their genitals to the room (at least while I was there). Bedrooms remained safely off limits for Lesbian shenanigans, windows remained locked against daredevils and nobody tried to crash the party despite the front door being left open for some fresh air.
Around 11:45, Suzi, myself and Aden left the party and caught a bus to Greenwich North tube. Plans were made for a future goth excursion to Brasil, where I'll be able to take everyone to Sao Paulo's one and only goth club Madame Sata, as well as the beach and my mom's farm (where the goths will be able to pet my mom's cows and horses, and breathe some good Brasilian fresh air.)
I gave my quick goodbyes to Aden and Suzi and ran to catch the last Jubilee train heading west. To my drunken shock, as I walked into the carriage I spotted Doris sitting down with some people. Doris was the first girl I became friends with when I was 17 years old and had just moved to Hong Kong. During my first weeks in high school, she sat with me in the canteen, as well as in homeroom, and was basically that friend we all have before we naturally find the crowd who will turn out to be our real friends. I did the shitty thing and dumped Doris, though we always remained in good terms -- even after she moved away to London, to a private school, but came back to Hong Kong on holidays and dated sailors. I remember going to a football match with Doris and one of her sailors -- a guy whose dream was to be a hairdresser (!?) -- and having a really good time. Years went by and I lost touch with her... so yeah, she was in the Tube last night... and I completely avoided her. I was tired, drunk, and she looked different, with her hair long and dyed blonde. But it was her. She got off at Green Park station and walked away without looking back.
