Believing it was a thing of yesteryear, it hit me like a bolt from the blue when my 17-year-old daughter recently announced she would be going to a house party (don’t you just love it as a parent when you are no longer asked, but ‘informed’?).
At most of the parties we used to attend, we didn’t even know the host.
I’m unsure how we got wind of them in the days before mobiles and socials, but every weekend seemed to throw one out.
They were usually in the most inappropriate place such as a quiet cul de sac on the outskirts of Bexhill where, Beryl at number 42 (aka Rosebud Cottage) would, after a long day’s graft watering her hydrangeas, spend the evening less than discretely peering from behind the net curtains with her husband Geoffrey, index finger primed to call the local constabulary.
It's where childish, showing off behaviour became, on someone else's territory, fair game.
The odd kid, usually a French or German exchange student would strike it lucky with the female of the species and often be found making out in the parental bed, the door of which never seemed to have a lock, before the noise and lack of control became too much and Beryl would bite the bullet, and plod would make an appearance.
Nowadays no doubt the police, through lack of staffing or just not giving a damn, would not show and the Beryl’s of this world would have to suffer before Jeffrey would go all Michael Douglas in ‘Falling Down’ and steam over to the front door for some strong words about the noise as he is mocked mercilessly by some semi-tanked-up teens.
The next day, if you managed to get some shut eye under a pile of coats in the hallway, you would see the hungover host, regretting his actions, panicking as the parents are due back at midday, as they try and scrape some ground in spaghetti hoops out of mother’s prized shag pile cream carpet.
So yes, dear daughter, I will allow you safe passage to the house party, but just to clarify something once and for all - No matter how much you enjoy, or how much fun you have, rest assured that we will never ever, ever, be holding such an event at our homestead, thank you, please!
- Brett Ellis is a teacher.
