This evening was the birthday of Siobhan, a girl I've met through Inter-Club events (and whose mulled wine party I went to before the Christmas break). She was having her birthday at an event at a pub in Battersea, called the "Smashed Up Soiree", where the theme was "20's-30's-40's Country House Party".
Did my hair up in a 40's hairstyle like I often do, and made my way out to Battersea. I was in a rush to catch the trains as I went, so I didn't bother to write down the address of where I was going, figuring that I would use my fancy new iPhone to look up the address en route.
Such a mistake, as I couldn't seem to get the phone to load anything, and arrived at Battersea Park station without a clue as to where to go next! I hopped on a bus, hoping that I might spot the pub I was aiming for en route, but as we proceeded to cross the river going north again, I knew that wasn't the right way and so jumped off. Waited out in the cold for ages looking for another bus going back in the correct direction, but at least I finally got service on my phone to figure out where on earth I was going!
Eventually got myself sorted out, and arrived at the pub, only slightly chilled, to be greeted by Siobhan, fantastically dressed in a riding outfit, flat-cap, and a crop. Only someone like Siobhan could get away with wearing skin-tight britches and look fabulous in them!
The party itself wasn't exactly packed, but it was a good crowd, with people having gotten into the spirit of dressing up in costume. We started the evening actually by gathering around a piano and singing along to songs like, "It's A Long Way to Tipperary" and "Who Do You Think You're Kidding, Mr Hitler". Kind of strange to imagine these were exactly the sorts of motivating songs that people would have stood around a piano and sung in the dark days of the war.
Then there was swing dancing going on upstairs, and I found myself dancing for a bit with Andy, one of Siobhan's friends who she'd introduced me to that evening. Nice chap, although a bit awkward and dorky for my taste, as I was obviously having to keep all of the conversation and things going. Needless to say, I wasn't exactly crushed when he left at midnight, leaving me to chat with a really lovely girl who was a friend of Siobhan's. Had a funny time talking to her about the Italian guy who asked me out on the Tube (he texted me AGAIN that afternoon, saying "Hi, how are you. Why you did sent one text? Maybe you think wich i am a bad person? I would you like know your motive." It makes me wonder if I'm somehow a bad person, but you think a guy would be able to figure out what's going on when a girl doesn't answer his texts).
We then made our way back downstairs, where the real wood fire that had been going earlier seemed to have burned itself out. Yet I was determined (probably since I was fortified by quite a bit of wine), that I could get it going again. It took a lot of blowing and finally an old receipt I decided I didn't need, but pretty soon I had that fire blazing again, and everyone was quite impressed with me!
We'd been joined by an older chap who had just come from a 40th birthday party, who was quite generous with buying drinks, and who I did engage in a group conversation of "What on earth are boys thinking", referring back to the mysterious H who did not call. Yet at a certain point I couldn't miss his hand on Siobhan's leg, and her hand wrapped around his, leaving me internally thinking, "Really? The overweight, florid guy in his 40's? That's who you go for?" Siobhan's really stunningly beautiful, I wouldn't have expected that at all.
Still, I didn't want to get in the way of true romance (or lust), so made noises like it might be time to leave, and sent them off going one direction, as I parted with the girl I'd been having such a good time talking to. We made our way to bus stops on opposite sides of the street, and chatted for a while whilst we waited for our night buses to appear (at 3 AM). Yet, finally I spotted an available cab, and decided to forget the expense, I was so cold I desperately wanted to get home!
Talked to the cab driver a bit about the dashing British boy who didn't call, although my cab driver didn't have much advice for me. I did have to make the cab driver stop at an ATM, as I was so short on cash to pay him, but when I tumbled in my door £22 later, it was so nice to be in the warm that I was convinced it was money well spent!
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