There is nothing as depressing as half blown balloons hanging limply from the postbox. Yesterday was my son's twentieth birthday. Fourteen people had confirmed. The plan was to go to Emerentia Dam with the boat, have fun out of doors, have a picnic. Then come back and watch videos. By leaving time there were four people, including my son, Chris, and his girlfriend, Geraldine. Some of the others had to be phoned to find our whether they were coming. One was visited because her phone was out of order.
My husband had got the boat down from the rafters with the help of Chris and his best friend, Mavuso, and attached it to the trailer so we could tow it to the dam.
It never went. Three more people drifted in and out. They watched movies and a bit of rugby.
I thought of all the preparations. Chris had asked me to buy 36 rolls. Geraldine, his girl friend,had made two big salads, a cake, muffins. She was the one who hung out the balloons.
Today Chris and Geraldine took ham rolls to all the beggars and security guards they could find.
My husband and I are eating a lot of salad. The lettuce gets fished out as it turns brown.
What went wrong? Or is this standard for modern day parties?
1 comment:
Hmpf. That's just rude.
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