Being invited to a crowded birthday party is always an honour, but not always a favour.
Manu and I have been recently invited to the 40th birthday party of my cousin, a great fellow, nice and clever person, but unfortunately we meet more or less only twice a year.
Being invited to his party means arriving to a place where you maybe know someone: your other cousin who is already incredibly busy going around in an intense PR activity. Your uncle, who will be talking about his last hunting trip in Bosnia. Your aunt’s sister who is trying to have an intellectual conversation about the benefits of wine for an artistic exploit.
Then you also know those guys that used to play volleyball with your cousin when they were 17 and you were a only a shy 14-years-old girl. You recognize them despite their baldness or their overweight, but you absolutely don’t remember their name. They absolutely don’t remember you of course, so half of the conversation is like “I’m P.’s cousin, do you remember…” “Oh.. sure! Nice to see you! How are you?” “I’m doing fine and you?” “I’m also fine… Oh – sorry – need to say hello to…” and while they turn their back to greet an old friend with a big hug, you stay there like an idiot, turning around your eyes, looking for a reason to be there at all.
That’s why after less than five minutes Manu and I turned our attention to the rich buffet.
“Let’s have some Prosecco”
“Good idea”
Sipping…
“Mmm, it’s a very good one, I like it”
“I like these cheeselets”
“Oh, and did you taste these mini-pizzas? They are delicious…”
With the glass in our hands we went also to the garden, admiring those marvellous trees.
Then we kept each other busy with the story of my family (now he had some living examples to admire).
Very quickly our glasses were empty again.
After five or six approaches to the buffet and consequent refillings of Prosecco we were tipsy enough to have a perfect nonsense conversation, having a lot of fun together, as a couple of friends that hadn’t met for years… Holy Prosecco!