A time for turkey and the occasional octopus...
So, here we are, the
seemingly never-ending Christmas turkey has finally left the
refrigerator, after providing not only Christmas Day lunch, but
numerous other meals too as, a somewhat hasty decision was made that
‘ it shouldn’t go to waste.’ When I was young, my mother
created countless dishes out of our family leftovers, until after
over a week of turkey sandwiches, turkey casserole, turkey curry etc
etc Even she couldn’t go on, so on the 8th day, she
announced we were having ‘turkey surprise’ for lunch ! These
words were met with a collective groan, as we all imagined yet
another portion of the now-dreaded meat- so you can guess how
thrilled we were, when some hours later, it turned out, the
‘surprise’ turned out to be a turkey-less plate! She always
insisted we had eaten every last mouthful of the turkey, but I had my
suspicions, as I often noticed her silently slipping the remains of
the poor bird into a carrier bag, before sneaking out the door to the
rubbish bin outside the house. Obviously, I didn’t draw any
attention to her covert operation, as I feared, if she knew she had
been discovered, she would be forced to bring the carcass back into
the kitchen and make another turkey dish- which was a level of
suffering I just couldn’t bring on the rest of the family.
Having dealt with
the excesses of Christmas, we are then faced with the New Years Eve
festivities, which, in my experience, involve a degree of drinking
and a deep-seated need to make sure you’re standing next to the
‘right’ person when the bells of midnight strike and the
traditional kissing takes place. Sadly, when I was less-experienced,
despite my best efforts, I have found myself next to completely the
‘wrong’ person and was forced to lock lips with some decidedly
unsavoury partners.
One of the more unpleasant moments happened at a
friends’ New Years Eve party, I went, believing as I knew most of
the other guests personally, I had a good idea of who I might end up
with at midnight. As it turned out, this belief was mistaken, it
seemed word had spread about this party, so when I arrived, I was
confronted by a sea of unfamiliar faces attached to
increasingly-drunken bodies. So I gingerly made my way through the
throng, scanning the crowd, hoping to spot someone I knew, which
after managing to avoid the octopus-like hands of one particularly
sweaty man, my eyes fell upon Harriet, a dear and single friend. She
nodded towards the kitchen and I duly followed her direction,
relieved to have found an ally. Thankfully, aside from the couple
making out under the kitchen table, who were obviously far too busy
to eavesdrop on our conversation, we were able to form a plan. We
decided to enjoy the party before meeting up again at around 11.45
pm, if by then we had both found someone suitably delicious, we would
just congratulate each other and relish the passionate encounter at
midnight. However, if we had been less fortunate, we would, as
friends, grab each other as the bells rang out, therefore making it
impossible for either of us to be clumsily slurped by an unwelcome
mouth. We shook hands to seal the deal and then went our separate
ways, I headed back to the dance floor, only to find myself
face-to-face with the sweaty octopus, despite my best efforts, no
matter which way I bobbed along to the music, he seemed to be there.
As I became increasingly- desperate, my dance moves became more and
more complex, in the hope, he would get disorientated and, perhaps,
lose track of me in the now-lurching crowd. But he was like a
grinning, thrusting limpet and just stuck to me, his movements
pausing only for him to lean forward and say something allegedly
flattering to me, filling my nostrils with his beer-soaked breath.
After almost 30
minutes of this attention, I excused myself, citing the need for a
bathroom break. I tried to race up the stairs, but this too proved
tricky, as they were now as crowded as the rest of the house and so
it was something of an obstacle course. I stepped over and around the
various bodies, some vigorously entwined in overtly-sexual behaviour,
while others had just passed out after drinking too much and so were
strewn over the steps like snoring corpses. At last, I reached the
sanctuary of the bathroom and after politely asking the couple in the
bath to find somewhere else to enjoy each other, I was finally alone.
I locked the door and sighed with relief, while perched on the bath,
I checked the time, it was only 11.30, I still had time to find
Harriet or – better yet – find someone delicious and I would be
fine. After reapplying my lipstick in readiness, I opened the
bathroom door, the ‘bath’ couple almost fell on me, as they had
clearly been using the door as a support for their frantic
love-making. Without missing a beat, they passed me, still completely
joined to each other, and one managed to not only slam the door shut
but I heard it lock too. Feeling somewhat restored, I looked down the
stairs and tried to work out a safe path back down to the main room.
It turned out this was even trickier than the ascent, as I tiptoed my
way through the drunken orgy, narrowly missing flailing limbs,
ducking as clothes were thrown and stepping over the slumped bodies
of those who had only had a meaningful encounter with the lethal New
Years Punch. As my trip had taken longer than anticipated, you can
imagine my horror, when I heard the sound of the five minutes to
midnight countdown. I searched the room for Harriet, but she was
nowhere...even when someone switched on the TV so we could see Big
Ben chiming, which made the room slightly lighter, I still couldn’t
see her.
Suddenly I felt a
hand on my shoulder, she had obviously found me and just in the nick
of time...as I spun round to thank her, there was the sweaty octopus,
before I could take evasive action, the bells chimed and he
unceremoniously plunged his tongue into my mouth, filling every nook
and cranny with stale beer and hummus -never a winning combo
kiss-wise. After over a minute of this, he pulled away and grabbed my
bare arm, as I watched, he pulled out a pen and wrote his name and
phone number on me. He somewhat sleazily asked me to call him, before
leaving me stunned and alone at last ! However, after a quick glance
at the now-seething mass of lips around me, like a shoal of hungry
piranhas searching for fresh meat, I made a break for the door before
they made me their next victim. As I stumbled out into the cold night
air, I passed a car, the windows were steamed up, but I could just
see the unmistakable form of a topless Harriet, bobbing up and down
on a companion – for the briefest moment, I wanted to be angry at
her abandonment of me, but this was swiftly-overtaken by the tide of
mild envy I felt that she had found her edible treat and I had only
been sweatily-tentacled.
(N.B. I should like
to say here, we remained great friends and thankfully, my time came
when I got to be topless too – more than once!)
So as I said, here
we are, a whole New Year, time for resolutions...well, like many of
you, mine are mostly hopes, that I eat healthier, I do more exercise
and I achieve a few notable moments – but I do have one which I
make every year and has NEVER been broken since the year of the
octopus, I ALWAYS go to New Years Eve parties with a date...until the
next time…
Take care out there
in 2017 xx
