Monday 21 June 2010

TOWING THE PARTY LINE

I don't like parties. I hate the small talk. I hate the falseness. And I hate myself at parties for tolerating what I should not tolerate in "meeting new people" - something which fills me with dread when the people are abject bores. I rarely go to parties. But just occasionally there has to be an exception. My daughter's birthday party, for example. And saturday night was one too, a very generous party thrown by a grateful friend and client of her indoors, at which her indoors was a guest of honour. I couldn't not go. And it was a very classy event, and an extremely generous act by the hosts. In no way do I want to be curmudgeonly about their generosity or grace.
But as usual it left me wondering - is it the people there, the inescapable nature of the event or is it me that's the problem?
A good friend of mine who is notably and admirably intolerant of bores has a rule. Ask someone six questions. If in that time they have not asked you a single question in return, you are dealing with an arsehole. Walk away.
Good advice indeed.

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