Knees Up

Today

On radio 3 this morning there was an unexpected piece - an arrangement of a Venezuelan conga. I did a twirl around the kitchen.

"I seem to remember us doing the conga all around Montfort Close one year", remarked my husband. Oh God, yes!

In My Day

New Year's Eve has always meant party time to me. Despite my brother Chris suggesting that having my birthday on NYE means that I only get half a New Year's Eve party and half a Birthday party, I like to think of it as a double celebration.

Tricia, Dennis, Me and John Levett

When we lived in Montfort Close in 1982 we felt that the house was big enough for a cracking New Year party. I'd lost some weight and was feeling good so I bought myself a very skimpy dress in the sales. We invited neighbours, friends and work colleagues. Tricia was spending Christmas with us. We flossied ourselves up, laid out the food and cracked open the wine.

What do I remember about this particular party? I remember much dancing, much drinking and the degree to which my dress attracted male admirers. Dennis, the husband of one of Paul's work colleagues, a small, weasely man with a whiny, nasal voice, kept telling me that it wasn't so much the dress as what was underneath! I'd rather not speculate too closely on what he was actually saying, but he repeated this ad nauseam and more frequently as the night progressed. 

Eventually midnight arrived, with its Auld Lang Syne, party poppers and kisses. Somebody mentioned first-footing. While we hesitated to knock on doors at half-past midnight, it seemed perfectly logical to get ourselves into conga formation and go skipping around the Close. "La la la la la la-la!" in our skimpy party clothes, high heels and all, off we went, We ignored that fact that some people might be asleep (what? on New Year's Eve? Impossible! and anyway, they were awake after we'd finished) and the freezing cold and arrived back, laughing and ready for more dancing. 

Well, nobody complained, and the celebration went down as one of the Barrett "greats".

In fact, I'm rather disappointed that my wheezy coughing put a stop to my dancing at 1.45 am this year in Portugal!