How not to be a Party Guest

There is something quintessentially English about garden parties. They are rare events as many are washed away by our capricious climate.

Last year we did not have one. The memory of the year before was too strong. Everyone was indoors. Our BBQ chef slaved under the garage up-and-over doors to shelter from the rain. He did a good job but the garage still smells of sausages.

The Garden

You need a garden and it must be in some sort of order. I worked hard on ours but it is a disappointing time of year as the spring and early summer flowers have gone. The buddleias are not out yet, some roses have survived the wet weather but have a brown tinge. More colourful are the bottle brush bushes (try saying that quickly) and there is fragrance from the jasmine. The garden stream has dried up and the well is dry. The pond is covered in duckweed and the pump for the fountain has jammed.

The lawn is strewn with a trampoline, kid’s bikes, swings, balls and fishing nets. There are some newts in the pond but they are too wily to be caught. A badminton net was set up for the energetic. Boule is available.

All you need now are beautiful guests. Not all are beautiful and over the years one learns to recognise different problem people.

The Lecher

The lecher grabs a drink, leaves his wife and makes for the prettiest young girl he can find. Some girls are flattered by the attention for a minute or two but then their eyes start to seek an escape route. The host has to rescue them and introduce them so someone else.

The Geek

Oops. Out of the clutches of the Lecher you introduce her to a shy young man who is studying the toe caps of his shoes. He can tell you the value of pi to 35 decimal places and how computers handle the square root of minus 1 but that is not what a girl needs. He says ‘Nice to meet you’ and then his conversation hits the buffers.

The Saviour

Then she spots an older man. “Hello, you used to be my teacher as school. Do you remember me?” “Of course.” Says the diplomatic retired teacher. “Didn’t you go off the University?” A good response because most did and those that did not will explain why. She is in safe hands for a while.

These guest are invaluable. They can handle a conversation with anyone, known or unknown.

The Intellectual

Then there are the intellectuals. They can terminate a conversation and prevent a new one.

“No, we don’t watch television, we find it vacuous. We prefer the concerts at the Wigmore Hall; they are doing a series on Haydn just now.” The statement is delivered with a raising of the chin, lips firmly closed and a downward slant of the half closed eyes. They are peevish and intolerant of anyone who appears not to take life as seriously as they do.

The Unknown

There are couples you feel you ought to invite but you do not know them. Once we had a pair who came and proved very loud with had a limited command of English. Even more limited after a few drinks when they used their two words, one beginning with b and the other with f, more loudly. They were used as nouns, verbs and adjectives and applied to friends, foreigners, footballers. They spend their time expressing a festering dislike of the world.

The Boozy

Somewhere someone has had too much to drink. Just listen for the uncontrolled laughter, shrieks and giggles. Look for the flushed red faces and sagging posture. Steer your drink server away from them and offer coffee.

The Boor

Spare me from the verbally incontinent boor, especially those who, when asked how they are, insist on giving a full medical history with comments on the local doctors. It can go on and on. It has been a great sacrifice to drag themselves from their sickbed to get to your party. You begin to wish for euthanasia, for yourself and for them.

The Verbally Incontinent

These people will tell stories within stories with endless details which they self-correct as they go along. You know the sort of thing – ‘ I bought this fantastic T shirt at TK Max, no, I got it from Debenhams, or was it M&S? No, it was Primark because I went there the day after Leslie visited. You know Leslie, well she always comes on a Monday and I never go to M&S on a Tuesday so it must have been Primark. It was only £5, no, I tell a lie, it was £4.99…’ As if it was the most fascinating and valuable T shirt in the world. It is like being lead into an endless swamp.

The One Upman

There are lots of these around. Their job title is sure to contain the words ‘Consultant’ or ‘Executive’ or both. Management is a little passé nowadays. One upmanshippers will always let you know that their possessions cost more than yours and have some extra feature about them. Theirs will be bigger, brighter or gold-plated.

Their holiday will be further away from the UK than yours. How many stars will their hotel have? At least one more than yours. They have a meanness of spirit which cannot be broken.

Name Droppers

‘I was at dinner the other night with David. You know David. Oh you don’t? Used to be Prime Minister. Nice people, the Camerons. Prince Charles couldn’t make it unfortunately.’ So it is made clear that you belong to a lower social order.

A story was told about Norman St John Stevas. ‘Norman, you are always name-dropping.’ Said a friend.

‘Funny you should say that. Only yesterday Her Majesty the Queen said something similar to me.’ Was his response.

The Vamp

Women recognise these quicker than men do. The vamp has overdone it with make-up and jewellery and the hair do. Her neckline is low and her hemline high. She stands close to talk to the guys and touches them. They love it while their wives are shooting killer looks.

Food

It is said that at a party you should eat wisely but not too well and speak well but not too wisely.

Announcing that food is ready will resolve any difficult conversation but it brings a new set of problem guests.

The Picky

“Does it contain nuts?” It’s a steak – maybe it ate some nuts when it was alive.

“I’m vegetarian.” Oh goody, more sausages for us then.

“Is this sauce OK for vegans?” How do Vegans like their sauce?

“I do hope it is organic.?” Of course it’s organic, it’s meat.

“Is it well cooked, I like mine well cooked.” It’s a BBQ dear, it’s probably close to charcoal.

“Is this bread gluten free?” Of course not, bread is the one thing that contains lots of gluten.

“What about polyunsaturates?” You’re at a party, not weightwatchers.

“I’ll just check this Pavlova for calories on my iPad.” Bet you still eat it though.

Your heart is lifted when someone asks. “Is it OK to go back for some more?”

The Sprayer

Keep away from this one who eats with his mouth open and talks at the same time. Stand shoulder to shoulder if you have to listen to him.

The Perfect Guest

Oscar Wilde was asked by his hostess if he was enjoying himself. ‘Fortunately I am.’ He replied. ‘For there is no one else here to enjoy.’

Life is like a party. You arrive after it has started and leave before it ends. Hear no evil and speak no evil and you will never be invited back. So gossip a little.

The Guests Make the Party

Years ago we hired a bouncy castle for our son’s eighteenth birthday.

“Mum, I’m 18, not a kid. How embarrassing. None of my friends are going to turn up for a bouncy castle.”

“What if your sister comes and brings down all her model friends from London?”

That was a successful party. All the hot blooded males from miles around turned up to bounce on the castle with the county’s most beautiful girls. Next morning there were several lads asleep on the deflated castle and in various locations around the house.

After a cup of tea and some toast, they were a great help clearing up the debris.

Finally, in the days afterwards, it is nice to see that the “Thank you” letter is not totally obsolete. It makes it all worthwhile.

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