Blimey, 'gatherings' are ever-changing aren't they?
A 'gathering' is what used to be called a 'party' but our young discovered they could easier get the nod for a 'party' by calling it a 'gathering'.
Are us adults sufficiently gullible that we fall for things if they are blustered?
Yes. For a while. Ask the outgoing British Prime Minister.
The gathering was the weekend after Westminster's latest round of chaos and general bile.
So; we agreed to a gathering to mark the end of the academic year of eldest foster child.
Interesting side-point; do you know why the UK academic year runs from September to July? With a 6 week summer break?
Because going back 200 years they needed the kids to bring in the wheat.
Unbelievable we've never modernised.
Anyhoo; eldest wanted a gathering. We said yes. It's not his first, he's had two over the last four years, each different, due to eldest's development, but also down to changing times.
Our child's latest gathering happened last night.
It was a Saturday, the proper night for a knees-up.
When I remember teenage parties I remember mostly grotty events in people's parents' houses with a smattering of beer cans, some frantic dancing then an exodus to the privacy of the garden by those who had paired up.
I don't know if last night was typical in any way, but it was very different from my day.
First off, there was absolutley no 'Alpha male' posturing. Even one huge lad who arrived late after finishing his evening work shift and who's on course to sign up to be a paratrooper, and who, in a lazy moment, you might expect would bring a bit of boisterousness to the proceedings, sat next to two other earnest types and held a discussion about ethics and politics. And supped juice.
Another group formed cross-legged on our lawn and dicussed human relations and social interaction.
A smaller group formed on the landing, also quietly chatting.
There was alcohol. In moderation. There was no drunkeness, no one got unwell.
Nobody smoked tobacco and if anyine smoked anything else they must have done it beside the fire pit to camouflage any smell. But I don't think anyone did.
There was music. Loud enough too, thank goodness (otherwise it was more a conference than a party).
The finale to the music was a hearty rendition of Sweet Caroline.
I know. Neil Diamond. None of your rappers, your Bibby P or Gangsta G.
When it was midnight I asked everyone to come inside (for the neighbours) which they did in 30 seconds.
The head count was about 50% girls (that is to say people who presented as girls), 25% boys (same thing) and 25% people who were in various stages of transitioning.
A bit like the make-up of the next Parliament I would guess, although politicians aren't as good at being who they really are as our young people today. And anyway, they drink too much don't they (the politicians). And do drugs.
And come to think about it they probably spend less time discussing the issues that matter.
What I'm saying is; I'm confident the future is safe with the next generation.
0 comments:
Post a Comment