One of the first lessons I was taught was the difference between ‘a guest’ and a ‘host.’
“Ellie gets to choose what to do, because she’s the guest, and you’re the host.” Mum would preach when Ellie came and played at our house. It was a strong statement that was repeated time and time again, but what my parents were not aware of, was that I had tiny sinus canals which were stuffed with wax, so learning words was quite difficult at the time.
For years I kept thinking they were saying that I should be a good hose to my friends and pictured the long green rubber pipe that meandered around our garden.
Although I said the wrong word, I understood the concept of ‘hosting’ from observation. My parents loved to host no matter the occasion; weddings, wakes, New Year’s Eve, birthdays, royal weddings, jubilees …you name it, there was a party.
A surprise 40th for Dad had everyone I ever knew at my house one summer’s day in the 90s. A local band called ‘See You Next Tuesday’ played. I was 8 at the time and was brought up to the makeshift stage to sing Mustang Sally with my father. It was the same party that got us banned from using fireworks for two years.
Over a decade later, I came back from university for the holidays and found a giant gazebo set up in the garden for a Christmas party. I knew it had gone too far when I saw the rodeo reindeer being set up. And then it was revealed that a lookie-likie had been hired for the event.
This wasn’t the first time my parents had hired a lookie-likie. They once had Fawlty Tower’s Manuel to greet guests at the door for a dinner party. Once Manuel finished his shift, Mum went to pay him upstairs. It was there, half in costume- half in normal clothes, he wanted to sell his other characters to her. For ten or so minutes Mum stood politely as the man did his impression of Prince Charles (now King), meanwhile, her dinner party carried on downstairs.
It almost put her off hiring a lookie-likie ever again…almost.
For Christmas, you would expect a Michael Bublé, Mariah Carey or The Grinch, but due to the high demand they were not available, so Captain Jack Sparrow was hired instead.
Mum picked up the fake Johnny Depp from Didcot Parkway, and then took him to her dressing room so that he could turn into a pirate.
“You know I provide other services in this costume,” Captain Jack said as he put on his wig. Mum laughed graciously and left, shutting the bedroom door behind her with wide eyes.
Before Mum could worry about the fact that she had hired a gigolo, she had been called to sort out the drama with the iced penguin luge. The delivery man had accidentally dropped the iced bird in the middle of the road, sending Dad off in a 1stworld problem rant. Mum bargained with the man and we were given a snowman and a snowflake to make up for it. Two vodka luges and a rodeo reindeer – what could go wrong?
Throughout the party colleagues, family and friends crouched down by the luge with their mouths open like baby birds, ready for the vodka to trickle in. The kids, curious about this magic potion that was making their parents dance, started licking the luge and consequently fell asleep not long after.
As for Captain Jack Sparrow, he strode around the party, flirting with the women and pissing off the men, he almost gave Mum a mini heart attack when one of her teenage nieces went missing for some time, (but turns out she was playing Guitar Hero all along).
Another decade (and a bit) later, I am hosting a table at The Anchor to kick-start the Christmas season. It’s a cosy pub on the edge of Jericho with a big fireplace. I invite my closest friends and insist they wear woolly jumpers, Tom does his trivia quiz… and that’s as wild as it gets.
There were no unlawful fireworks, no vodka shots, and no gigolos
… my parents would be very disappointed.
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THE QUACK 