Babysitters and Breeders

Have you ever been to whats delightfully referred to, by those lacking in children, as a breeder party?

Try not to.

Around this time last year my neighbour conned me into attending this party with her. Well, I say conned, but actually it's more like she flattered me into attendance. I thought I knew full well what I was getting myself into- a night of free nibbles, champagne and mothers. With their children.
I don't dislike children, you understand- I just can't stand mothers in the vicinity of their children who are under the age of twelve.

That's valid though, isn't it?

So I was at this party, carefully avoiding the lure of so much free food and champers, and listening to parents trying to out-do one another with tales of their kids' exploits- "Oh but our George, he's a genius, I'm sure of it. You know, just the other day he.."

And that's where I met Imogen.
She'd gone along in the role of dutiful babysitter (who's employer had, of course, desperately waved lots of money in her face), and locked herself in the bathroom shortly after arriving, not having realised the depths of boredom and depravity this party would force her to witness.
When she arrived she was a faceless character, as I focused all my attention on not drinking too much nor laughing at the wrong moment during some complicated anecdote. Ten minutes in though, she kicked her shoes off in a corner, joined the kids playing on the floor, and was pulled away by a parent with too much time on her hands, "Do leave them be, dear, they have to learn to play as a cohesive unit". Her look of disgust caught my eye, and so I noticed her lock herself in the bathroom with a glass of champers and a cigarette scrounged from a packet abandoned on a shelf. Out of reach of the children, of course.

So I followed her, and she grudgingly let me in and let me share her champagne and the fliched cigarette- isn't it always the way, with English relationships? Meet, get drunk together, share a fag, bitch about the other people in the room, then- poof! Friends for life.


Now, does that count as interesting? Keep the story requests coming! My imagination just hasn't recovered from recent exams.
And I still don't know where your regular authors vanished off to, but our lease runs out next friday, so I imagine she'll be back soon- it'll take at least a week to pack.

Love, Toby x