People Are Nice
I have a theory that I am not a gregarious person because my first primary school, Burnside, was a school opened to cope with kids not able to go to the areas overfull school. I lived miles from most of my friends, so my friendship making skills were hampered by my lack of interaction with people out of school. I was far from a lonely or unhappy child, but I'm sure this had an effect. This kind of pschological analysis deserves me a spot on Big Brother I think.
Despite this I have now got the most fantastic bunch of friends. On Saturday, as an honoury girl at Penny's Hen Weekend, I had the rare opportunity of taking a step back to enjoy some of the friendships I have. I drove away feeling refreshed and full of energy. Centre Parcs creates an unerring sense of Stepford evil as blissed out nuclear middle class families ride around on bikes worshiping in a central glass dome protruding menacingly out of the conifers. You can feel its seductive presence that convinces you that the outside world is a terrifying prospect. I dwelt heavily on the right adjective for the next sentence, but couldn't come up with anything more fitting than lovely. I had a lovely afternoon with a group of lovely people, some are friends I've known for years, some I didn't know at all, but all were lovely.
Saturday night was Paul's 30th in Reading. I've known Paul, Pete, Ian and Richard more than 20 years. They've remained close since school but I've drifted. It's partly my fault, but it's as much to do with circumstance than anything malicious. The debut of Pile of Wank, the band formed for the party was analogous of my position within this group. Whilst the band played on, I stood on at the back watching. When you grow up with someone, as Paul and Pete have, you create a friendship that means you can play "I Will Survive" on wah wah guitar and Kazoo in front of 80 people. When you don't, you cling slightly to the sidelines hoping to get a bit of that inspiration, but it takes very little to cut you adrift. I enjoyed the night, but was left with a sense of melancholy as I dabbled on the margins of the party. I accept this fate, it's the result of my tardiness towards friends, and Burnside school. I will try to do better in the future, but I suspect circumstance will have me again. The band were fantastic, Paul's punk pop baritone Fergal Sharkey Undertones vocal is a demonstration of an untapped talent, Pete's immaculate lead guitar provides a polish that all great bands need, and Richard and Ian's rhythm section is tighter than a g-string on a fat bird. Fantastic.
Sunday I saw the little bag of crying that is Sophie, how can someone who farts so much, pulls the most gruesome of faces and makes the ugliest noises be so cute?
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