Thursday 1 January 2009

Hic'gone

I seem to be just about the only person that didn't take a camera out with me last night. I think I thought about it, but then I forgot. I had a good night. Things that would normally get on my wick slid past... I wasn't overly inebriated, but drank; mostly gin, plus a cocktail made for me with lemon juice and a bit of lime, I was told by Mr Trenholme... A martini in a tall glass; I think that's what it was. Probably three cocktails in one. The event that sticks in my mind the most was being cured of hiccups instantaneously by mark, who rolled up my coat sleeve (I was about to go and inspect the wood burning stove in the garden that people were huddling around) to the elbow and pressed his thumb on my upward-facing forearm, somewhere on the fatter part of the muscle on the outside, above the outermost bone. Gone. Just like that. I still can't decide whether it was that itself that worked or the perplexion at what he was going to do; I thought for a flash of a moment he was going to take my pulse and was a bit distracted while I tried to work out why... I doubt I'm cured indefinitely, and apparently you can't do it to yourself, but my hiccups are monstrous, acidic sick-makers. Thanks Mark, and Happy New Year. I should say thanks to Matt too, he tried to do the same but with my hands and gave up in the end... I did point out to Rich later that Matt has caught me (physically, not just in the act of,) swinging off various rocks, and I farted just above his head while he spotted me on a difficult problem in Fontainebleau... so the mild disturbance of the comfortable social norm was completely absent. I walked outside and told Matt (king of fire) what had just occurred; he responded by shattering my gentle delight, declaring: 'You know it doesn't really work, don't you?' I told him I did, knowing what that really meant... honestly, it was nice they both gave it a go. Even if it was just to shut me up when it became a bad joke... Finally, Simon kissed the hand I proferred in manly gesture at the end of the night. He was mostly asleep and there's a good chance he won't remember. None of these gentlemen are the charmers they would seem, on reading this post, I should point out. They're all perfectly nice people, but I see then as naughty little boys, so I'm delighted by it all, I really am. Even Timmy Tom was on his best behaviour, but then, he wasn't drinking. There it is. Rich was intrigued by Trenholme Senior, drunk and beautiful, and I love him.