Friends and Neighbors

Country life is exhausting. Houses and gardens require maintenance. Lots and lots of maintenance. As soon as one project finishes two more present themselves. Mixing in all these tasks with work and a social life is endless. All I want is to go to bed. Solo bed parties or bed parties accompanied by husband and dog are not nearly frequent enough. In fact, if I could be in bed forever I would be in heaven.

But my life is what happens between bed parties. Since I was last at the DVLA, the British equivalent of the DMV, it has been nonstop back and forth between town and county. Last weekend was spent at a wedding in Cowes. Why do the English call it the Isle of Wight instead of Wight Island? I suppose because they are English and they know better.

Cowes is an odd place. The main drag looks just like any English street, only it is a few feet from the sea and has more pubs and people walking around in sailing gear. Sailing people always wear sensible clothing. It really isn't very attractive. Neither is the main drag in Cowes where a number of delinquents hang around drinking beer out of cans and scratching their fury parts openly. I didn't feel very at home there but then I'm not into drunken sailors.

Thank god we were only there for a day before heading back to London for a Mardi Gras themed party at Loulou's. We listened to a fabulous New Orleans jazz quartet and a brass band with lots of people donning feathers and playing instruments one has never seen before. Even the boys in the kitchen came out to parade through the club banging on their pots and pans along with a feathered Indian and sequin-clad dancers. They really know how to do it at Loulou's. It's as good as home but without all the mess to worry about.

Before the party we had dinner with some friends. There is nothing nicer than having dinner with friends. I'm not sure I understand why people like to socialize and meet new people so much, though I suppose they are upwardly mobile and need to for business reasons. I really dislike going to parties full of people I don't know, especially rich people who want to make new pals. Yuk! But this night was different, we had dinner with old pals, got drunk and then spent the night at their flat. We woke up hungover and had a delicious brunch together before heading back to the country. This is what having a good time is all about. Meeting new people is for networking. The English understand this better than Americans. They are quite friendly with people they don't know but not so friendly to give the impression they actually want to be friends. In a way it's cold, which Americans are not, but it's also a bit more honest. I don't think anyone should be too friendly with someone they hardly know unless they want something from them, which is just a bit wily if not weird.

My idea of fun is to have the neighbors come over and get totally plastered. By neighbors I mean friend neighbors, neighbors we like, not just any neighbor. Unfortunately two weeks ago we had one such evening and our neighbor got busted, or done as the English would say, for drunk driving. It was an extremely unlucky thing considering he literally lives across the road. He is expected in court tomorrow. I hope he doesn't lose his license even though he had had about 6 gin and tonics. What is it about the English and gin and tonics? My mother always told me it was a nanny's drink. But here I come to find out it's just an English drink. She must have had an English nanny. Made well, with a bit of cucumber, a G&T is really quite good. I can knock back a couple easy.

We suspect the new neighbor down the road loves to call the police and that she was the cause of the drunk driving incident. There was no reason for the police to be on our quiet lane at 1:30 in the morning, even though it was a Saturday night. Apparently there had been a "disturbance" call. It was probably the old lady who heard the wind rustling the trees or something insignificant like that. She's old and anorexic and walks her anorexic Lurchers without smiling. Apparently her poor husband isn't well either. The story is they rented the cottage next door while they finish construction on their new house. People say she called the police to report another neighbor for fly tipping. Poor guy was just cleaning out his garage. Perhaps I will invite her over for a few gin and tonics, we really can't have the police hanging around these parts too often or they might bust me for drunk and disorderly in my own house. You know how the English are about health and safety...