Yesterday, or this night since I didn’t get home until two in the morning, was the Leaver’s Ball at my school. It was a sober affair this time, mainly because it felt quite lame to pop out to the car park to drink a quick slug from some hidden bottle.
I am sure that many did just that, and that there were gallons of illicit drink confiscated by the door-man eventually. There were quite a few of the lads and the girls that had a certain rosy hue to their face that suggested they weren’t entirely sober. Unlike yours truly and Ben and Abbie, who acted like conjoined triplets during the evening.
At the start I had to rush about, as part of the arranging team, to fix little problems and answer questions, until everyone settled into the routine of the party and just got it on. The flowers didn’t arrive until the morning, and I spent hours before the party doing my duty as the token homosexual, and put the flowers out in an appealing arrangement. I could do this, yes. Maybe there is something genetic about that, after all. Once the gay gene kicks in, it also triggers the floral arrangement gene.
While everyone got to go down town and continue the party after the doors closed at one at school, yours truly had to help with a bit of the cleaning. We had to put the chairs back and the tables, and that sort of thing, and sweep the worst of the litter off the floors. Fortunately the school paid for professionals that would come in and nuke the premises with chemicals on Monday, but the lifting and the carrying had to be done by us.
The only thing I missed about it was that Mark wasn’t allowed to buy a ticket, since the ball was reserved for students at the school. He could have bought an expensive ticket for an hour-long reception, but we decided that we probably could survive for an evening without seeing each other.
When I came home I found that he had cooked me dinner, and had put it in the fridge. Himself? He was found in our sofa in the living room, snoring lightly with the telly on. Not even the dogs stirred from their happy slumber hooked as they were into one of their master’s arm-pits. I actually was quite hungry, so when I started to toss about in the kitchen I woke him, and he just slunk to bed. Thus ended the day, and now there’s only silence in the house.
I had a good time this evening, despite the leg-work. We did good, us organisers, and people seemed happy about the party. Well, apart from the fuss about not having alcohol on the premises. But as I said, that was probably easily fixed in the car park outside the school.
I still find myself to upbeat to sleep yet, so I’m writing this report instead, with a large mug of tea in front of me and dirty dishes from the dinner in the sink, which I will have to do. I’ve thought about, and dismissed, playing computer games since I’m likely to make noise, so I’m just sitting here enjoying the warm feeling that still linger. And it’s not only from drinking the hot tea.