How do you judge a party? Is it the enjoyment of the people there? The amount of alcohol consumed? How much the house was destroyed? Well, I’m going to go along with the first one, because that way my party on Saturday will get the highest score. Everyone certainly seemed to enjoy themselves, and to be honest, how could they not? Barbequed meat, Pimms by the gallon, and the game ‘Bop It’ (like Simon Says, only funkier). There was a big crowd, a constant buzz of conversation, I kept fairly good control over the stereo and the weather couldn’t have been better. It seems almost perverse, then, that I feel a slight twinge of disappointment, for all the wrong reasons. No one made a fool of themselves, we actually gained alcohol, there were no ill-advised couplings, most people caught the last tube home, and for the first time in all the parties I’ve ever had, the bathroom was fine. Maybe we’re getting old, or maybe it’s because most of the people there were my girlfriend’s friends, but it was all just a bit too sophisticated. Still, it meant there was very little cleaning up to do, and I didn’t spend my Sunday skulking in a haze of unspecified guilt, so that’s good.