13 February - Brits & Parties

The Brits/Oasis party is tomorrow night I can’t go as it’s on Valentine and I have a lovely one, so I tell everyone that I hate Oasis anyway. It’s true! No stretch there. Liam’s face has the instant same effect on me as Vicky Becks, I just feel like slapping then till their heads snap off, which is weird as have no violence in my life and never raised a hand on anyone but it’s just pavlovian. However, I cannot but remember what happened back that NYE with U2 in Dublin. Picture, 1989, we’re all invited to see the band (who we work with) perform in Dublin and back in those days you had more than a good chance of hanging with them and have fun. Things were big but probably hadn’t gone to Bono’s head that much yet, he hadn’t started phoning the Whitehouse yet. Plus Dublin on any NYE is a scream and top boutique hotels had already been launched. However, the boyfriend with whom I’d be reunited that year after a painful hiatus, said we wasn’t keen to go. So I turned it down, stayed in London and though we had a nice night out (some red and white ball in Brixton or am I remembering tosh?), the following morning he was sat in the kitchen staring at an ashtray full of butts. Smoke filled the room. I think I said ‘Baby what’s wrong?’ and then I got the dumping/binning conversation which he’d come over to give me but hadn’t had the guts to do till NYD 1990.
After the dust settled and tears run dry many, many, many months later, all I kept remembering was ‘Darn, I missed NYE with U2 for you. Bastard!’. You may think this a very superficial thought, but as mentioned before I did have a guilty secrets passion for The Edge so who knows what could have happened. So turning down the party of the week/month for love is fraught with a different kind of anxiety. Will history repeat itself?