For twenty years across a number of female and male children, we resisted the temptation to say yes to one of our children having a house party. The guilt, or the feeling bad, left us in literally seconds when we said, ‘No!!!” as if we had been offered a night in a snake pit.
We became the parents who just did not say yes to those types of questions. That is not to say their friends did not flock here at different times; it was just not a party. More of a gathering that was respectable and managed.
Then for some unknown reason we said ‘yes’. No exclamation marks here, just a feeling of trepidation. Like going into a shark tank with an open gash. It was not for a date with months to prepare; it was just over a week away. Our only rationale was that we were doing our bit in what seemed to be a very active party season. The summer of finishing GCSEs is always potentially a busy one socially. And this one was proving that to be on the red button.
As the day got closer, the stomach pit sank deeper and deeper until the day arrived. We agreed on 18:30 until 23:00. It was a weekday, so the neighbours became our buckshot for any intentions for longer. We had agreed on no more than twenty.
No one was to go upstairs.
Then 18:30 arrived, and by 18:40 the twenty had been surpassed. It finished at about thirty. What does one do? Lock the doors at twenty. Pretend no one is in. In an age of social media, those days have sadly gone. So thirty it was.
We have a long garden that, for the sake of a better phrase, has been rewilded. We closed off the bottom where the more precious things had been stored. We have two ponds, a flower bed, and numerous shrubs and trees….
The thirty congregated in the kitchen and in the area outside of the conservatory. Music was occurring, alcohol was being downed, and randy sixteen-year-old males were trying their luck. Generally everything went well apart from:
Play fighting on the stairs
One boy got essential oils in his eye. He claimed it was rat poison and threatened to sue us.
Pulled the curtain off the inside of the bathroom door.
A boy and girl attempted to have sex in one of the bedrooms but were given sharp shrift and dispatched back to the ground floor.
Unravelling the toilet roll along the hallway (twice).
Tipping art pens all over the landing.
Putting a plant down the toilet of the parent’s bedroom on the third floor.
Rifling through the kitchen cupboards and freezer.
Pulling the dishwasher out.
Putting an animal skull from the garden in the cat litter.
Taking and then throwing eggs.
Throwing water over the kitchen floor that had to be mopped up.
Stole a jug.
Turned on every gas hob and the grill, which could have led to an explosion and loss of life.
Other than that, it all went off perfectly.
At 23.00 hours the partner of one of our daughters rounded them all up and ‘eased’ all those who were not sleeping over onto the street. With military precision*, the house was almost emptied.
*This precision can be hired for a very reasonable price.
It has to be said that the vast majority were very well behaved.
Then the cleanup began, and an hour or so later we went to bed.
The lesson from this event is not for us to determine. It is merely a warning. Out of the blue one day, those words out of a script by Wes Craven may suddenly arrive.
“Can I have a party?”
Our only advice is BE PREPARED! The glue of the scout movement will never be more important.
Have a whole number of excuses written down. Rehearse them over and over and adopt a method acting style. With the right preparation, you might just be safe.
Take care, all!
