Dear friends and other interesting creatures,
It started when the x person and I bought a house just after my 18th birthday. I realised I could have a party!
Hosting a party carried on into my second marriage, where it became more church and family focussed. Gatherings, afternoon teas and surprise parties. I remember my (step) Dad’s dad, Oupa Bert saying I was the most gracious hostess ever and what a treat it was to visit.
My childrens birthday parties were well attended, every detail perfectly planned celebrations. As soon as a party was finished, the birthday boy or girl would start planning their next birthday party. It was something I excelled at. I loved it.
Then the sickness came. May 2011.
Since our move from estate living, where the river ran through it, to urban living in an area for the newly weds and the nearly deads, @SirNoid and I had totally stopped entertaining at home.
Our previous residence saw me effortlessly inviting fifty of our closest friends for a catered chef cooked meal to perfectly cooked steaks by the resident chef, @SirNoid.
Any reason I could ever come up with would warrant a dinner party. My Mammie said to me she has no idea from whom I got this “let’s entertain!” flair from, but I loved it. My Mammie is a very private person and doesn’t need people the way I do.
The only thing I miss about having a big house with a garden to groom and a pool to keep blue, is the space to entertain.
Yet….. Do I want a big house again? I don’t think so. The rain would have turned the garden into a jungle and the pool into a swamp. I did not enjoy having to colour chart those things.
I love that we can pretty much “lock up and go”. I have no security fears where we live. We have enough space not to share a bathroom, and @SirNoid still has a “man cave” to smoke in.
The circle of life. The difference between raising a family and being a couple in the urban jungle?
Oh yes. I need to buy bacon.
I wish you enough,