It's twenty past one in the morning. Have just come back from a house warming party. There were many middle-aged people there, i.e. people the same age as my parents, slurring "Those were the days my friend" in a rowdy sort of way, occassionally getting up to sway around/leap from one foot to the other in a frenzy of "dancing". The sense of nostalgia was almost touchable. The Beatles and Bob Dylan all had their say. Guitar strumming and marracca shaking took place. One woman tapped what looked like a minature may pole covered with bells against her thigh, and hummed at the wall. A lot of "booty shaking" went on. The booty (large) was mainly directly infront of where I was sitting. If you had been there, you would have said they were all stoned.

Us young people sat on the sofa, trying to look like we weren't part of the happy circle.

Although that might sound like your worst nightmare, it was actually not bad at all. I talked to all night to people I might never see again, and the conversation was pretty amazing. My voice is going. In betweeen the crumbs of cake, and amusing myself greatly over the slurry proclamations of the old people - "I know," said one woman, after having finished her booty shaking to a rendition of Bye Bye Miss American Pie, and catching my eye, which may have displayed signs of inward hysteria, "We're so sad. Happy middle-aged people!" With that, she ran to the nearest happy middle aged person, and they hugged each other ferociously, in the way only drunk, middle-aged happy people can do. - in between all this, I talked.

Anyway, it's late and I should sleep, but I'm too elated. My little room seems boring and lonely and EMPTY after all that.