It’s not what I wanted to hear on a Thursday night when my ears were killing me, I couldn’t hear a thing and J was insisting on watching some medical soap on TV when all I wanted to do was watch the cricket in the West Indies.
Kitty – ‘Thomas, can I have a sleepover?’
Sorry, what did you say?
Can I have a sleepover?
No you can’t.
Why not?
Because when you and your girlfriends get together, you gang up on Guy and make his life a misery.
Guy – ‘but I’m at my dad’s house this weekend Thomas’.
Thanks for that Guy.
Kitty – ‘so can I have a sleepover then?’
No.
Mummy – Thomas says I can’t have a sleepover.
J – ‘go on let Kitty have her friends over.’
Thomas – ‘ok then – how many?’
Kitty – ‘nineteen.’
Sorry – did you say nineteen?
How did you tell them about it?
I used Microsoft Messenger.
At this point I nearly fainted. I’d read about these Facebook or MSM postings which result in hundreds of kids turning up at a ‘party’ and ransacking and wrecking the house.
And so it came to pass that on Friday evening a collection of kids, both male and female turned up at the house, some carrying what looked like sleeping bags, others carrying bottles of coke and bags of crisps, and some just in the clothes they wore.
Kitty was still in the shower or painting her nails or whatever so I had to show her friends down to the bar which I’d prepared for them. The music was ready as was the full wall projector, the lighting was subtle and the drinks and snacks all ready on the counter.
I switched on ‘Club Raves’ and despite my virtual deafness, I could hear the beat blasting out of my hi-fi. I could certainly feel my sub-woofer making the walls reverberate.
But as I made my way out of the bar I saw their quizzical faces. Never mind – I couldn’t hear any grumblings. In any case, there was drinks and snacks – what else could they want?
More and more kids arrived. I didn’t bother counting them just in case I ended up with 50, 100 or more. I showed them down to the bar and the music had changed – no more Club Raves, on in its place was some French stuff – absolute rubbish – almost like a tone-deaf singer, reciting poetry to music. Absolutely awful. What terrible taste kids have these days!
I looked at them and they seemed happy enough. There was no dancing, not that you could have danced to the rubbish which was coming out of my speakers. They just stood around or sat in groups chatting to each other.
At this point, the pizzas we’d ordered arrived and suddenly the kitchen was full. It was like a locust storm. Within seconds, the boxes had disappeared downstairs and I only just managed to keep a couple back to take to Tan and Angie’s. I’d already decided that I wasn’t staying at my house that night so I grabbed a couple of bottles of wine and the pizzas and went next door.
Later that evening, I came back from next door. My ears had completely gone and I couldn’t hear a thing. I didn’t dare look downstairs so went straight to bed.
Next morning, J told me that the noise had been deafening until 3.30am. I hadn’t heard a thing – it was great!
Something like 30 pancakes and 10 pains au chocolat later, they all wandered off. Off to the next party somewhere in Vence.
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