Friday, 14 July 2006


Next door are a bunch of students. MA students. Coming to the end of their year. They're having another party. Its Friday. Its expected. This week its also been Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday. I look out feeling jealous of their hedonism and freedom. They sit on banged up old armchairs in the garden during the day, writing essays on laptops. By night people come round and they have rowdy conversations long into the night accompanied by music that is very reminiscent of the days when I did it - Clash's london's calling, the who, jam, reggae, guitary and noisy, with lyrics. The garden is full of chatter as the night drags on. Its excited. I lie in bed thinking of the next day at work, or like today feeling thrilled that it isn't a day at work tomorrow. Its been a long time since I was at a really good house party, talking until the sun rises, or dancing and dancing lost in the music, watching couples pair off, or having heated drunken debates. Mostly these days we go out and eat, that's the 30s' equivalent of the party - eating in good restaurants, drinking in organic gastro pubs, talking about house prices and work. What a big yawn.

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