Party palaver

Trip Start Jul 19, 2009
Trip End Oct 25, 2010

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Flag of France  ,
Monday, September 22, 2008

I promised you a full account of Saturday's party, but to be perfectly honest, there's not that much to tell.
Not that it was boring - no, not at all. It was a great party, we all enjoyed ourselves, and had lots of fun. 
Fleur and Elroy did a marvelous job setting the whole thing up.

There was a really nice crowd. I met lots of new people, Dutch and French mostly.
Delicious food: salads, sausages, cheeses, melons, grapes, and lovely crusty bread.
All kinds of nuts, crisps and snacks. Cakes, tarts and fruit pies.
My brother, who had traveled all the way up from Narbonne, even though the vendange (grape picking season) had just begun, brought 60 liters of biological wine. We're still not sure about its alcohol percentage, though. Plenty of  booze and juices; we would certainly not to go hungry or thirsty.
A few joints were passed around - marijuana  for the picking in the back garden.
Flaming torches and fires outside. Good music, too.
But the piece de resistance was the sanglier, or wild boar.
I think I heard a mention of 55 kilo, amounting to approx 25-30 kilos of meat.
There was an enormous fire in the garden, and an improvised spit, with a handle to turn the pig round. Check the photo, not bad, hey?
I don't care that much for pork, but this was very, very tasty.

Of course, the costumes were fun and an excellent topic of conversation.
Thank god we were not the only silly buggers sitting there in stupid clothes. Most of the guests had made an effort of sorts.
The French are apparently more used to these going-ons, for most of them had simply rented their costumes, and seemed perfectly comfortable moving around, even dancing, in these elaborate, stiff, long, and often tight, outfits.
The Dutch, well, being Dutch means your are not going to spend a penny renting any togs, not when you've got an old sheet, some aluminum foil, rope and a marker pen. And that's exactly what their costumes looked like, a load of junk thrown together. After a drink or two nobody really cared one way or the other so I slipped out of my old drawers and into my jeans.
Mieke and Peter had been very creative. Mieke a lady-in-waiting and Peter a merchant. 
As I had left it all too late, Mieke had to improvise and I ended up looking like a cross between little Bo Peep and Fanny Hill.

Fleur had invited Jacques, hoping to cheer him up a bit.
He came with us, the Borreze is about a 45 minute drive from here. He preferred to change into his costume just before we got there. So we stopped at the side of the road for him.
In hindsight it would have been kinder if we had checked him out before letting him walk into the party dressed like that - hoping to pull a bird as well!
Oh my! 
You see, Jacques is not a tall man. Nor is his head very big. Everything about him seemed to diminish, his nose and glasses peering from the coat of mail covering his head, the shift way too tight across the belly, too long - making his legs look oddly short. 
He was like a little comic strip soldier come to life.
Endearing in a way, too, and he surprised us all on the way back home saying he had a date with one of the ladies he met there.
Good for him!

So all went well, alas no knight in shining armour for me to run off with. 
However, I did bump into a terribly attractive gypsy.
Thierry, his eyes full of promise and fire. We had met before, a dinner party last year.
He feeds me morsels of sanglier that he cuts from the carcass with his sharp, shiny knife. Whispers beautiful French words, and smiles secretively when I ask the meaning.
So romantic.

But Peter is waving a glass of wine at me, and Thierry's  young girlfriend is looking very bored.
We smile and let it go. Till the next party, till the next dinner party.

Isn't that just what parties are about? Drinking, laughing, dancing, and flirting.
Falling asleep with a smile on your face, dreaming of knights and dragons, 
fires and gypsies.........

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