I spent all evening with a phony smile plastered to my face and nodded to inane small talk. It couldn’t be helped, it was impossible for the chit-chat to be scintillating. I mean come on, they were at a doddering 75-80. Most of their bedtime were at 9:20pm.
So I fake smiled some more, eyed the large kitchen clock every now and then and felt sure that it had stopped. I then tried running around with the digital camera as it gave me something to fiddle with during the long hours of boredom. Unfortunately the battery died with all the fiddling.
I mocked my brother who was trapped on the sofa with a bad knee and therefore couldn’t even make a hasty escape to the kitchen if need be. When I was truly desperate for some peace, I sat on the pot in the loo re-reading Pride and Prejudice, my book of great consolation in tiring times.
After desert I rallied myself. I knew my time had come and sure enough at 11 promptly, one old couple got up to bid their adieus. Ah, I thought, at last it begins. In 35 mins they’ll all be gone. My fingers were crossed, my heart beat faster.
But to my surprise, and a pleasant one at that, each one of them (and there were a few oldies) got up in unison and said they would be pushing off. You can’t imagine my elation.
I assumed the intense feeling of euphoria sprung from the joy of my freedom from tedium, but could just have been a sugar high from all the cake.
Who can say?