BLASTS PAST AND PRESENT
One of the happy coincidences of turning 30 is that everyone else you know is turning 30 too. Last night I went to a "surprise" party for a guy I went to primary school with.
I walked into the Bethnal Green bar at just gone nine. Everyone looked familiar, yet at first glance it seemed like I knew no-one. Through the smoke-filled haze my eyes honed in on Jeremy, a pube-haired (former?) pot-head whose style of preference had outlived the demise of grunge. I'd not seen him in years. He'd just completed a PhD.
Next up, Dana, now married but still with fond recollections of a New Year's Eve I'd once spent at her parents home in Southgate. We were 17/18 at the time. It was a Friday evening so, with due deference to the Sabbath, we walked round to a friend of hers who was having a party. Sadly for Dana's friend Martha, not all of those attending behaved - fans and lights were broken, beer and wine spilt on anally maintained rugs and the house generally trashed. Martha's parents - whom we could call eccentric if we were being polite, or stark raving bonkers if we were not - returned home early. "I built this house with my bare hands!" cried her demented dad. We scarpered. I tried to go out with Dana after that, but I seem to recall that she was grounded for eternity. Oh, and she didn't fancy me.
Back in Bethnal Green, I bumped into Bubba-Pappa look-a-like Miranda. I'd last seen her on a beach in Tel Aviv 12 years earlier. I hadn't missed her.
Anyway, Miranda's friend intrigued me more. She remembered meeting me once, 17 years ago, on a night bus. We never actually spoke but she recalled the episode because she'd had her first period. "I leaked all over the bus," she confided with just a little too much detail. I apologised for epitomising this traumatic event in her life and moved on.
The party itself was in honour of Itai. We used to attend primary school together. I remembered his 10th birthday party - Dolly Mixture and Salt 'n' Vinegar crisps were in plentiful supply (making it a far better party than this one). And BMX Bandits was on video - at the time, Itai said, I'd told him I'd already seen it. He told me to sit down and watch it anyway. Was I really that rude?
I hadn't planned on a late night. But when I got home my cute nieghbour Anabelle was entertaining some friends. She was drunk and maybe, just maybe, a little interested in moi. In the end, I contented myself with an almost kiss on the lips and went to bed at three.
Today, though, was more traumatic. I cooked lunch for Maria the Greek. My mum's meat pastries were perfect, the salad delightful and the bolognese amazing. The only problem was Maria. Sweet, kind-hearted, flirty and obviously into me I just couldn't bring down my wall. I told her I didn't think things would work between us - she thanked me for my honesty, but having sat in her seat scores of times before, I knew her gratitude was hollow. I broke her heart. And my only solace is that for the first time in a long time I thought with my head and not my nob.
One of the happy coincidences of turning 30 is that everyone else you know is turning 30 too. Last night I went to a "surprise" party for a guy I went to primary school with.
I walked into the Bethnal Green bar at just gone nine. Everyone looked familiar, yet at first glance it seemed like I knew no-one. Through the smoke-filled haze my eyes honed in on Jeremy, a pube-haired (former?) pot-head whose style of preference had outlived the demise of grunge. I'd not seen him in years. He'd just completed a PhD.
Next up, Dana, now married but still with fond recollections of a New Year's Eve I'd once spent at her parents home in Southgate. We were 17/18 at the time. It was a Friday evening so, with due deference to the Sabbath, we walked round to a friend of hers who was having a party. Sadly for Dana's friend Martha, not all of those attending behaved - fans and lights were broken, beer and wine spilt on anally maintained rugs and the house generally trashed. Martha's parents - whom we could call eccentric if we were being polite, or stark raving bonkers if we were not - returned home early. "I built this house with my bare hands!" cried her demented dad. We scarpered. I tried to go out with Dana after that, but I seem to recall that she was grounded for eternity. Oh, and she didn't fancy me.
Back in Bethnal Green, I bumped into Bubba-Pappa look-a-like Miranda. I'd last seen her on a beach in Tel Aviv 12 years earlier. I hadn't missed her.
Anyway, Miranda's friend intrigued me more. She remembered meeting me once, 17 years ago, on a night bus. We never actually spoke but she recalled the episode because she'd had her first period. "I leaked all over the bus," she confided with just a little too much detail. I apologised for epitomising this traumatic event in her life and moved on.
The party itself was in honour of Itai. We used to attend primary school together. I remembered his 10th birthday party - Dolly Mixture and Salt 'n' Vinegar crisps were in plentiful supply (making it a far better party than this one). And BMX Bandits was on video - at the time, Itai said, I'd told him I'd already seen it. He told me to sit down and watch it anyway. Was I really that rude?
I hadn't planned on a late night. But when I got home my cute nieghbour Anabelle was entertaining some friends. She was drunk and maybe, just maybe, a little interested in moi. In the end, I contented myself with an almost kiss on the lips and went to bed at three.
Today, though, was more traumatic. I cooked lunch for Maria the Greek. My mum's meat pastries were perfect, the salad delightful and the bolognese amazing. The only problem was Maria. Sweet, kind-hearted, flirty and obviously into me I just couldn't bring down my wall. I told her I didn't think things would work between us - she thanked me for my honesty, but having sat in her seat scores of times before, I knew her gratitude was hollow. I broke her heart. And my only solace is that for the first time in a long time I thought with my head and not my nob.
posted by David Cohen at 5:03 pm
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