Solstice

Friday night! Party night!

My father would often yell “FRIDAY NIGHT! PARTY NIGHT!”

Though the intonation was more like ‘Friday night? Party night!’. But like a rhetorical question. Like, ‘duh, it’s time to party’.

And then on Saturday, it would be ‘SATURDAY NIGHT! PARTY NIGHT!’.

I was never going to live up to my father’s capacity for fun. And I knew, even as a pre-teen, that it was disappointing to him.

But he was the most fun. The ‘life of the party’ sort. Just as my mum had been. And I was… anxious.

I was anxious about everything. I was anxious when he would pull his famous dance move. He would put down his glass at some point in the evening, take a run up, and hurl himself into the arms of his best friend, Hugh.

My father was (famously) diminutive (I think he claimed to be 5ft 10) and Hugh is famously tall (a giant - I don’t know, maybe, 6ft3?). The run up was elaborate. My father loved ‘Saturday Night Fever’ and modelled his own dancing on John Travolta’s. I don’t know how to describe it exactly - there were a lot of… hands.

The dancing embarrassed and worried me. The drinking (never problematic but absolutely central to the social lives of my parents and their peers) worried me. The singing (there was often singing) caused me concern.

But mostly I was just worried, I guess, that having lost one parent, something would happen to the other.

On one memorable August night in Scotland, at the annual bonfire held with Hugh and his family (inevitably on my birthday, despite my fierce protestations), Dad did ‘the move’ and hurled himself at Hugh. Hugh (not uncommon) had no idea ‘the move’ was happening until it was too late (that was all part of it). But for Hugh’s stunning athleticism and staggering hand-eye coordination even under the influence of a distillery’s worth of whiskey, I would have watched my sole living parent incinerated on a pyre. On my birthday.

I remember that night my father being annoyed that I wasn’t having more fun.

That memory came to me as I quietly fiddled with the roses I picked from the garden just now.

Friday night. Party night?

It has been another blisteringly hot day at Daisy Barn. The heat has been relentless and impossible to escape. But in a few hours it is the Solstice. And to celebrate this long, long day, and short, magical night, I decided to brave the heat and pick all the roses in the garden (admittedly leaving it looking somewhat saddened) as the sun started to set.

I have a group of girlfriends who, from time to time, I have over for a Crafternoon. When we go away together, we always do a puzzle (well, three of us with one spectator). We talk about balance, boundaries, books. And we have often talked about what it is to enjoy activities outside of what the world considers ‘fun’. We go to bed early.

I was very well socialised and so I long thought of myself as an extrovert. I came from highly extroverted stock, after all (see above). The kind of family that did skits, and wrote and performed silly poems, on special occasions. At my maternal grandparent’s ruby wedding anniversary party two of my cousins dressed in drag - my cousin Al as my grandmother and his sister as my grandfather.

And I can work a room like you wouldn’t believe. I can talk to anyone.

It wasn’t until a boyfriend suggested I read ‘Quiet’ by Susan Cain that I realised I might actually be an introvert.

I don’t really believe in this binary. After all, I love nothing more than being the centre of attention. I mean, obviously. You don’t become a barrister if you don’t just love having everyone listening to you pontificate.

But then, this evening, poking the stems of roses haphazardly into a vase, sipping nothing more potent than a Coke Zero, listening to Amicus (and Strict Scrutiny), chatting to no one but the dogs, I am perfectly at peace. I would say ‘content’ but I think it is actually right to say ‘happy’. I did audible, contented sighs sporadically as I pottered.

But am I having fun?

[ You can find more of my memoir (me-moi) via the index, should you wish to read more self-indulgent ramblings ]