Last night was Jerry and Heather’s annual summer party at their Bayswater house in London. I took Tim along as my mate-date. It’s one of those annual do’s that is always comfortingly the same — perfect weather, lots of couples, Jerry pretending it’s not his birthday, Heather saying ‘what are we going to do with all this food?’ — the kind of party that makes you feel like time is folding in on itself, but in a not-scary way. Only the children seem to change, but now that most of the guests have teenagers there were hardly any about, which made me feel old.
Around 10:30 pm the crowd was thinning, so Tim and I bid our farewells. Leaving the house, we bumped into nine-year-old Maud, Heather and Jerry’s youngest. She was alone sitting room in a party dress playing on a yellow iPad. I’ve known Maud since she a toddler and we’ve always had ‘a connection.’
When she saw me she shrieked. ‘Oh. My. God! Nobody told me TAYLOR SWIFT was coming to the boring grown-up party!’ Then she fell to her knees prostrate before me and kissed the carpet at my feet.
Apart from the fact I’m blonde with bangs and have an American accent, I don’t remotely resemble Taylor Swift, but I decided to run with the compliment.
‘Good evening Maud,’ I intoned. ‘I have come to your parents’ summer party to inform you that you are the Chosen One. Now I shall bless and anoint you on behalf of woman-and-girl kind before getting on my private jet back to LA.’
I pressed two finger to Maud’s forehead and we mimed passing an imaginary orb of Girl Power from my hands to hers. We performed this ritual back and fourth two or three times. Tim was in silent stitches but Maude and I remained solemn, silent, eyes-locked, committed to our roles. Then she leapt to her feet and ran over to the piano.
‘A sing-a-long in honour of Your Highness!’
So that’s what we did.
This is all to say that life is full of small joys and surprises and sometimes the best moment of the party is the unexpected party at the end of the party with a piano and a nine-year-old girl who makes you believe, just for a moment, you’re the biggest and most beautiful pop star in the world.
in praise of summer parties