So, I told you all the good stuff about the ball. And, it was mostly good. But, do you remember how I said it went ALL NIGHT LONG? Remember? Well, it did actually go ALL NIGHT LONG. The sun started to come up again and everything looked a little less charming in the daylight. People’s faces had started to melt (ok, their make-up had started to melt, but I think ‘people’s faces had started to melt’ sounded much more excellent). Their hair was falling out. Bits of their outfits were falling off. Bodies were folded-in on themselves and slumped over each other in strange origami type piles on the grass. Their were cups and rubbish everywhere. Everyone’s energy was flagging. The music was going and people valiantly attempted to bop, but their movements were slower, tireder, didn’t seem to stretch as far and looked far more ridiculous and far less sexy in the early morning light than they had in the darkness.
My mood was going downhill fast. I decided all I wanted to do was sit down and people watch. Actually, I was very happy about the idea of lying down on a comfy piece of grass and staring at the ever-lightening sky. It had gotten to the part of the night when all I wanted to do was listen to mournful music, stare into the distance mournfully and consider how mournful life was. I would start composing mournful poetry in my head (that I would never write down) and mournfully acknowledge that I was the only person at this party who truly approached the mournfully deep nature of life and existence. If only someone could see straight into my mournful soul right now they would understand the true meaning of life.
Basically, I was too exhausted to do anything anymore and really needed to go home to bed. But all the flashing lights and activity and noise and sugar and alcohol and morning sun was confusing me to the point that I thought I was wide awake and didn’t need to sleep. FALSE. I needed to sleep. There is no better mood enhancer than a proper night’s sleep. But, I spent a good half hour still wandering about the ball aimlessly and mournfully attempting to convey the sadness of my soul to drunken people who were clearly to drunk to understand
(Example conversation with Drunk Man –
Drunk Man: Are you tired? (Jenny shakes head mournfully) Drunk Man: Are you depressed? (Jenny shakes head mournfully) Are you hungry? (Jenny shakes head mournfully) Drunk: All this can be resolved very easily if you come this way (Jenny shakes head mournfully) Drunk Man: Ok then. Byeeeeeee!!!! BIIIIIITTTTTCCCCCHHHHHHHH!)
Luckily for me, other friends realised what was needed, even if I didn’t and took me home. Sometimes it takes an outside observer to know when enough is enough. Which is why I think that the reason Cinderella’s Fairy Godmother put the midnight time limit on her was not because her magic couldn’t last past midnight, it wasn’t so Cindy could make a dramatic (and memorable) dash from the Prince. No, its just that Cinderella’s Fairy Godmother was well-aware of the end-of-party-blues and she wanted to make sure Cindy didn’t go through it. Cindy’s Fairy Godmother knew when enough was enough. Because, no matter how amazing dodgem cars and cheese rooms and Ballerina Petting Zoos are, there comes a point when even they are no longer exciting.
My new thing for Thursday was still part of the ball (because it was a new day, ok?) I smoked a shisha. I’ve recently decided I’m allergic/highly-sensitive to cigarettes because every time I have one I inevitably end up with a cold to end all colds. But, the shisha was actually divine. Incredibly smooth. We smoked a mint and grape flavour, I think? The effect of the tobacco was pretty heavy-going after so many drinks and so little sleep and after a few rounds (and me and Michelle taking it in turns of doing impressions of the caterpillar in ‘Alice in Wonderland’) I fell back on the pillows and decided I’d had enough. I couldn’t even get enthusiastic about a Nutella crepe. The shisha broke me. But, I didn’t have a cold in the morning, so you gotta take the breaks when they come.