It is my dream, nay my fantasy, to one day be invited to a party like that. The idea that you almost didn’t go! Esther, I want to shake you woman. If there’s an invite to a party like that, you always go. Even if it’s dreadful and awful you always go 😉
Esther, isn't it funny how I always imagine those who have huge followings on Substack to be the "life and soul of the party" types, all suave and glamorous! So it's not just me who feels awkward at parties. I'd be even more awkward now that I no longer drink!
Esther, I will give you a pair of completely authentic size 7 Jimmy Choo shoes, gold patent leather, in exchange for an invite to this party. Think about it. You know where I am.
Eeesh, well done for navigating a proper party with (clearly, judging by the comments below) such flair and aplomb! These gatherings give me the fear these days, although I did once spend a hefty amount of time at garden parties at the Inns (ex-barrister, member of Middle Temple), when it was always very amusing to play spot the drunkest judge. Those were the days. Can’t do any of that any longer, given the resurgence of my previously well controlled introvert-ism (introversion??). Nor could I manage 3 glasses of wine, sterling work by you. I am, however, certainly jealous that you got to squeeze Amol Rajan.
It was delightful to see you - albeit all too briefly. I felt disproportionately pleased with myself for leaving whilst I was still having fun - sensible I am not on such occasions owing to my EPS (Elusive Party Syndrome). And may I say again that The Hair is a TRIUMPH - it makes you look like one of those insouciant Parisian women.
If I had to choose only one book I was allowed to read for the rest of my life, it would be The Code of the Woosters. My dad pressed it on me for the train journey home and I’ve been devoted to PGW since. I recently sold my small collection of first editions but I have his oeuvre in a wonderful edition produced by Everyman. You are in for such joy.
I work for an organisation affiliated to the Inns, so have lunch within them on days that I am in town, which still feels slightly crazy nearly two years in as it is a bit like your office canteen being held in Hogwarts Great Hall (especially at Lincoln's, where lunch is waiter service).
This means I am invited to each Inn's summer party (and our own organisation's summer party) and I am obliged to at least show my face, to be "seen," which is everything I hate about a party. Last year I had the perfect excuse not to attend as was having chemo and disinclined to take my immunocompromised self onto the commuter petri dish in and out of London for some months. However, this year I have no such excuse, plus the addition of a new sensitivity to alcohol which definitely renders me "hectoring" rather more quickly these days. So my plan is to sip one glass at each occasion, smile and wave at the right people, then make a swift Irish exit.
What a great podcast recommendation!! Downloading the back catalogue now!
It is my dream, nay my fantasy, to one day be invited to a party like that. The idea that you almost didn’t go! Esther, I want to shake you woman. If there’s an invite to a party like that, you always go. Even if it’s dreadful and awful you always go 😉
Esther, isn't it funny how I always imagine those who have huge followings on Substack to be the "life and soul of the party" types, all suave and glamorous! So it's not just me who feels awkward at parties. I'd be even more awkward now that I no longer drink!
It was very nice to meet you! Apologies for running away for cake.
I was ON MY WAY, then struck by such a heinous migraine I had to return. THWARTED, FOILED.
What does it take to get invited to one of these Substack soirées? £50? £100?
Be Andrew Tate, I think.
it's a mystery
Esther, I will give you a pair of completely authentic size 7 Jimmy Choo shoes, gold patent leather, in exchange for an invite to this party. Think about it. You know where I am.
Eeesh, well done for navigating a proper party with (clearly, judging by the comments below) such flair and aplomb! These gatherings give me the fear these days, although I did once spend a hefty amount of time at garden parties at the Inns (ex-barrister, member of Middle Temple), when it was always very amusing to play spot the drunkest judge. Those were the days. Can’t do any of that any longer, given the resurgence of my previously well controlled introvert-ism (introversion??). Nor could I manage 3 glasses of wine, sterling work by you. I am, however, certainly jealous that you got to squeeze Amol Rajan.
he's very cuddly
So nice to meet you properly! Always up for a cat chat
It was delightful to see you - albeit all too briefly. I felt disproportionately pleased with myself for leaving whilst I was still having fun - sensible I am not on such occasions owing to my EPS (Elusive Party Syndrome). And may I say again that The Hair is a TRIUMPH - it makes you look like one of those insouciant Parisian women.
hooray!! Giles hates it so let's just pretend he doesn't exist
If I had to choose only one book I was allowed to read for the rest of my life, it would be The Code of the Woosters. My dad pressed it on me for the train journey home and I’ve been devoted to PGW since. I recently sold my small collection of first editions but I have his oeuvre in a wonderful edition produced by Everyman. You are in for such joy.
I’m sorry to have missed you! Next time!
oh no I would have loved to see you!!
I work for an organisation affiliated to the Inns, so have lunch within them on days that I am in town, which still feels slightly crazy nearly two years in as it is a bit like your office canteen being held in Hogwarts Great Hall (especially at Lincoln's, where lunch is waiter service).
This means I am invited to each Inn's summer party (and our own organisation's summer party) and I am obliged to at least show my face, to be "seen," which is everything I hate about a party. Last year I had the perfect excuse not to attend as was having chemo and disinclined to take my immunocompromised self onto the commuter petri dish in and out of London for some months. However, this year I have no such excuse, plus the addition of a new sensitivity to alcohol which definitely renders me "hectoring" rather more quickly these days. So my plan is to sip one glass at each occasion, smile and wave at the right people, then make a swift Irish exit.
Oh I do love a post party post!
What a lot of Rebeccas! After 3 glasses I would be a sweaty mess and calling everyone Rebecca.
Love these natty little insights into another world.
there are a lot of Rebeccas it's true
It was delightful to see you
Good morning Esther! I would have chosen the beef too.