Thursday, February 25, 2010

Pass me a canape Mr Eno

Last night I went to a party with Brian Eno. That's my story and I'm sticking to it, whatever a certain Mr G might have to say. To begin at the beginning, I was invited to a party and the invitation did come from Brian Eno. I would like to pretend that Mr Eno personally asked me to come but the truth is a friend was compiling the guest list and thought S and I might just like to pop along.

Whoever invited us, the invitation did say that Brian Eno requested our company. That's good enough for me. We turned up at the venue and were first treated to Brian (or Bri as I like to call him) being interviewed by Polly Toynbee about his curatorship of the Brighton Festival. All very interesting and there was time enough to brush up against his Roxy Music-ness.

But no, for when we all piled outside for the wine and canapes it became clear that there was, literally, a two tier system. Eno and all the great and the good were installed on a mezzanine floor above us while the rest of us mingled around on the lower floor, as befitted our lowlier status. No matter, for there was free wine aplenty, a good buzz and even a flashmob. At first the wine made me wonder if I'd have the guts to inveigle myself on to the mezzanine floor but after a few more glasses, I found I didn't care that much. I was having a good time, Brian or no Brian.

Cut to this morning and S and I did a quick embarrassment audit to ensure we hadn't said anything awful to anyone, been sick anywhere or danced inappropriately. Having reassured ourselves that we had not, we decided that if Eno had met us he'd have liked us very much indeed. We were still at his party though.

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