Nuit St George

Still feeling a bit fragile after the Chaos Ball last night, which by itself probably indicates that it was good fun. We started out at Peter Hargrave’s penthouse flat, which is in the same block I lived in for a while before I managed to buy my house in Cardiff. My flat was much smaller and on the first floor, but Pete’s is high enough to command a majestic view of the hills to the north, and in yesterday’s lovely late evening sunshine we could even see as far as Newport, to the east, although seeing Newport wasn’t something I was particularly yearning to do.

A cocktail or two later and we were on our way to the venue just down the road at the Mercure Holland House Hotel. We got there too late for the bubbly that had been laid on to welcome the guests, as it  had all been guzzled by the students in next to no time. Still, there was plenty of wine at the tables, so there wasn’t a problem. It wasn’t Nuits St Georges, incidentally, which is a fine wine-growing region of Burgundy. I picked the title because the ball  was on St George’s Night…

The food turned out to well-presented and very tasty too.  During the meal we had musical accompaniment from a saxophone quartet and afterwards a DJ plied us with music of a more contemporary nature. It was a bit too contemporary for my tastes, in fact, and I didn’t find much I wanted to dance to. A bit of Abba would have suited me better, but then it was all aimed at the students rather than the few old fogeys on the staff who came along. Not being inspired by the  terpsichorean muse I spent the rest of the evening chatting and drinking in the bar, as well as getting in the way of various peoples’ photographs.

My famous white dinner jacket attracted some comments but fortunately didn’t attract any of the tomato soup I had for a starter. I must say everyone looked  glamorous in their posh frocks and I think people were generally having a good time and were enjoying the chance to dress up.

Most of the younger crowd headed off to a club in town to carry on the evening, and I was toying with the idea of going along but it was getting close to midnight and I was in danger of turning into a pumpkin so I climbed into a comfortable taxi and went home to crash out. I’m far too old for all that sort of carrying on.

After debauched evenings like this I usually wake up the following morning to a vague recollection that I did or said something embarrassing, which usually turns out to have been the case. This morning I just had a headache. That doesn’t mean I didn’t disgrace myself again, but if I did I don’t remember how. Senility has its advantages.

On behalf of everyone who was there and had a good time I’d like to thank Harriet and Alice for doing such a grand job organizing it!

P.S. You can find another account of the night’s proceedings on Ed’s blog.

3 Responses to “Nuit St George”

  1. I couldn’t resist pointing out that the “Nuits” in the name “Nuits St Georges” does not refer to “nights”. But you probably knew that already and were just teasing us, right?

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