I don't know which made me feel older - attending my father-in-law's 60th or the fact I dressed the same as my mother-in-law. (The latter made me suspect that Ben's attracted to women who are like his mother, but it's more likely a mere coincidence. I'll only cry "Incest!" upon one more such incident.) After 3 attempts to perfect my nail polish, I was ready to add my finishing silver bracelet when I saw Kerry clipping on a very similar piece.. and, like myself, wearing a black, lace top, jeans and black heels. So, I skipped the bracelet and changed my outfit, managing to pull back my nail polish whilst pulling on my pants. Damn you to hell, coincidence (and your cousin, Murphy's law and.. Taxes [technically a second cousin])!
We had a very nice time celebrating out at the Malvern Hotel, where we were greeted warmly by John's friends, including his long-time buddy from the Polish neighbourhood, Richard. This gentleman who last flattered me with, "You look good. Why don't you always look like that?" this time asked, "Why are these people saying you look gorgeous?" It's all in good fun (I hope!) and Richie personally saw to it that we were entertained among the older crowd, for the evening. He plonked me down beside one perfect stranger, insisting, "Talk to Carol! She used to live in Singapore."
"Ok.."
Carol did have some interesting tales, like how her Filipino maid had to be smuggled out of the country when it was discovered she was having a relationship with a local, an unacceptable coupling in the community.
Ben and I somehow gravitated to the other cat lover in the room, Chris, who showed us pics of his clever feline squatting over the bath tub drain to pee! He said his wife refused to engage in any bedroom action if the cat was present, both regarding it as their baby. Privacy was not the only condition his wife instilled in this area. She would also ask, from the vantage of the bed, "Is that a cobweb in the corner?" so that Chris soon found himself regularly cleaning cobwebs and such around the house to increase his luck. Clever lady!
When Ben and Chris had left me alone, Richard kept me company with the always-fun conversation starter, "When are you having kids?!"
"What are you, her father-in-law?" someone retorted.
He proceeded to explain ("and tell me if I'm wrong..") that every woman's greatest desire is to have children; he also insisted that women are much smarter than men, however, so the generalisations evened out. As we chatted, he casually brushed my hair back from my shoulder (like an actual father tidying his kid) without seeming aware of it, which I thought was pretty funny.
I noticed a waiter apologising to Kerry for putting a dent in our bum. Our talented friend Lisa made an amazing cake which was sculpted into a bottom, on account of John's nickname, Bum (Bee is the less embarrassing abbreviation). As a lad, he was famous for stripping nude, tucking a piece of newspaper into his bum, setting it alight and running down the street. So, yes, the nickname's quite literal. Someone had dropped a bottle on the cake in the cool room, but Kerry reasoned, "Bee's got a scar on his bum, so now it matches."
Throughout the night, I kept failing in my determination to show comradery to the waitress, Georgia, who had to deal with the rowdy Polacks. I'd just taken a big gulp of cider which I followed up with a massive burp when she happened to walk past.
"Did she hear?" I demanded of Ben.
"Yep. She even gave you a look."
So, with the cake cut, I donated a large portion to the staff, which I handed to Georgia. Ben pointed out that giving her a piece of cake in the shape of a bum was like telling her to kiss my arse. D'oh!
Ben and I had enjoyed our night, but just like the oldies leave early at young folk's parties, we younger two were the first to leave the 60th. We looked for Ben's brother Josh as we were heading out, in case he wanted to join us, but saw him talking to Richard at the bar. "Quick!" Ben harried. "If Richard sees us, we'll never get out!" Bloody party animal, that one. We escaped on a tram and collapsed our weary, middle-aged bodies into bed.
