Went to a party tonight in Highgate; strangely enough, in a house only situated one street away from where I was born!  It seemed strange visiting that familiar road again after so long; but I was pleased to see that the houses had all remained virtually unchanged from the days I used to wander along that road on my way to school as a ‘kid’.  That’s really another story, although it just somehow felt ‘compelling’ to walk back in familiar surroundings.

Not so impressive, was the sub-zero weather and the pavements covered with a thin layer of ice.  Although it was not that treacherous as high pressure had kept the rain away, and a full moon helped to isolate the icy patches.

It was a “Burn’s Night Party”; albeit ‘moved’ a little to a convenient weekend date.  I had known about the party a couple of weeks before from my friend Gareth who also knew the host (or should that be “hostess’ – I don’t know, my grammar sometimes!), Carrie a film maker and TV presenter, friend he knew.

I usually avoid such occasions, but as I had been to one of Carrie’s parties before and thoroughly  enjoyed it, I told Gareth I would go but asked him to collect me. He said it started around 8, so I said that time would be fine for leaving, and maybe we could arrive around 9.

Now comes the ‘funny’ part – although I leave the word ‘funny’ in inverted commas!

He indeed came to collect me – but I was still in bed!  That’s worse than it sounds, in fact, because I had only gone to bed at 11am that same day!

We eventually jumped on a bus some 45 minutes later, but on descending on a steep slope in Highgate on the way, I told Gareth he’d have to hold my arm as I had no confidence getting down it without slipping.  He did, which made it a lot quicker for me than having to hang onto the icy railing.

There were quite a few people there already when we arrived.  And there was the smell of haggis cooking in the neatly tiled kitchen.

My friend Andrew was there again with his beautiful companion; as also the editor of Pentacle magazine (whose Forum I used to write for back in 2006) and also a guy I knew who had previously interviewed me for television. Many other people were also present obviously, but I had not yet met these.

Whether any of these knew myself, I did not know,  but one very attractive lady introduced herself and then proceeded to attempt to warm my hands up which were still freezing from the short trip.  Her hands were warm and almost seemed to exude some ‘hot energy’ that melted any coldness.

Then came the haggis (or rather ‘haggis’s) all neatly served with swede and mashed potatoes.  I had never tried it before,  but it made a lovely meal and had obviously been well prepared.  Red wine seemed to compliment it even further!

Midnight was soon gone, but luckily I had a lift back in a taxi. 

I didn’t relish the possibility of attempting to navigate that steep slope again at that time of night!

 For now,   David  (Farrant) 

  • reply barbara green ,

    Oh dear David–old age and decay creepeth up upon us! I was like a dontknowhat thsi year, staggering around clutching stuff while others marched boldly forth down the hill, but I was determined not to fall with my crumbling bones and didnt, though I drove out in ye car when others had blazed a trail down the hill.
    I am having a problem at the mo with a dickipoggy plumber who has well ahem, taken some money off me and run off to spain with his ladyboy girlfriend–it was someone I thought I could trust, very sad really, since my friend left me that money in her will–and a baptist church managed to wangle half out of her as I discovered after she had died,well news must have spread all around I am regarded as the local Mother Teresa/Lady Di.
    and used accordingly!
    Lesson to be learned–NEVER WISH TO BE “RICH” or even have a few well earned bob–it invites the scum of the earth to try and rob you!

    GLAD YOU ENJOYED THE PARTY, MY BEST WISHES TO THE GALLANT SIR GARETH!

    Hope to get back on the Robin Hood case soon, but dickipoggy plumbers–that si the King of the Stopcock Prince of the Plugholes hanky panky sorted. Erm, thoughts of bottles down the River Thames by the magistar Saucy Jack might help!
    Very helpful in the past dealing with psycopaths and morons of West Yorkshire!

    tata

    barbara

    • reply John Baldry's Cat ,

      I went to a garden party to reminisce with my old friends
      A chance to share old memories and play our songs again
      When I got to the garden party, they all knew my name
      No one recognized me, I didn’t look the same

      CHORUS

      But it’s all right now, I learned my lesson well.
      You see, ya can’t please everyone, so ya got to please yourself

      – (“Garden Party” by Rick Nelson)

      • reply David Farrant ,

        Are you trying to tell me something Cat?!

        David

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