The Wrong Party
November 26, 2017
Last night I was entering a side door to a party in a bar above a pub when someone said loudly, ‘She’s a homophobic lesbian!’ I stopped and looked at the young man who had said it.
He was drinking at an outdoor table with two others. He looked embarrassed and sweetly apologised, ‘I didn’t mean you. We were talking about someone else.’
Laughing now, I carried on up the stairs, following the signs for the private party. At the upstairs bar I was greeted by three people in fancy dress. One man was bare-chested and had a large donkey head sticking out of the front of his trousers. The place was decorated with balloons for a party. There was a piddly bowl of punch on the bar. But there were only these three people. They looked expectant and slightly awkward.
I didn’t know them. I was at the wrong venue. The place where I was supposed to be was another five minutes up the road. It was a much, much better party.