All Very Modern

Posted by Katy Regan at 09:12 on 14 May 2009

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At the weekend, I did lunch for my London friends at my country pile. (This is the ongoing joke amongst my Londoner friends, that I have a ‘Country Pile’ when really it’s a two-bit terrace with an old For Rent sign lying in the front garden, like some sort of repossession order).

I’d been slightly nervous about this lunch from the outset 1) because I was inviting Matt Black – the first time my friends had met him and vice versa. And 2) because he was bringing his ten-year-old son and this was the first time myself and Fergus had met him too.

Admittedly, I suspect there was possibly some inequality in expectations on that front – Fergus very excited about meeting a cool, trendy ‘big boy’, cool trendy ‘big boy’ not that excited about meeting a four-year-old who spent the entire day in the sandpit in his size-too-small pants (that’s entirely Egg’s fault. I don’t think Egg would notice if he were wearing aged 18 months to 2 years clothes. I tell you, it’s ridiculous. He just assumes that all trousers are shorts).

But anyway, I think it all went rather well. My fears that ten-year-old boys (since I don’t know any) only talk in monosyllabic grunts proved to be unfounded and Fergus was on his best behaviour all day. Matt Black seemed to fit in very easily with my friends and I was unusually relaxed. Usually in situations like these – me not being the most natural multi-tasker – I just stand in the middle of the kitchen, flapping and getting progressively more drunk. I had, admittedly sat bolt upright at 6am that morning, convinced there wasn’t enough food and that I simply had to have a leg of lamb or this party was off! (I got it from Waitrose at 8am). But other than that, everything was great and my friends approved greatly of Matt Black and vice-versa.

By the end of the evening, my back garden looked like some sort of gypsy caravan site with empties strewn all over the lawn. There was quite a beautiful moment come sunset when his ten-year-old was playing with my four-year-old – a kind of version of ten-pin bowling, but with our empty wine bottles.  Ah! The very picture of modern relationships in the suburbs. Classy!

 

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