THE DREADED PARTY
S U N D A Y, 1 J A N
Felt sick all day.
At 7.30 I changed into my bloomy dress. Put my hair in bunches, and we dropped Chump off at the Reids. Lucky thing.
First Mummy and me were shown up to Mrs Hamilton-Browne’s boudoir to leave our coats, then we went down to the drawing-room. Ghastly furniture (they're nearly millionaires). Sarah came up - two years younger but taller than me. To escape, I asked to go down to the kitchen to see Ma and Pa’s conversion, and spoke as long as I could with Mrs Stokes the cook.
Back in the drawing-room I couldn’t recognise anyone at all without my glasses but Fiona Scott and Pat Walker came straight up - what a relief. Fiona’s terribly nice. Pat is quite sweet but has funny ideas. She said she’d like lots of servants!
“Then who should join us but little Peter Pinches – he’s vile. ”
He may be intelligent academically but he’s very narrow-minded. He’ll be a dreary little businessman when he grows up: he says things like “philosophy sounds a terrible bore”. I had a tummy-ache from worry and felt frightful. Then we went into another room where a buffet was laid out. I loathed every minute of it, I felt too sick to eat it. Went into the billiard-room, lit with a reddish light. I chatted and ate. They put records on but there wasn’t any dancing (a terrible relief).
Then this rather nice boy called John came up to me and I began to enjoy myself more. He’d been skiing and loved it. He was doing accountancy and loathed it. I asked him why didn’t he go to university and he said his boarding school hadn’t encouraged it. That’s what I can’t understand about these public school types, they don’t seem to have got any encouragement school-wise. People don’t realise what they’re letting themselves in for when they go to dumpy schools. It’s all for snob reasons anyway - that’s what’s sickening about it.
At 10.15 I took my leave and went back into the drawing-room where Ma and Pa were chatting to an awfully nice American couple. That was the best bit. We stayed for about 20 minutes then picked up Chump from the Reids and tasted some of Mr Reid’s home-made wines; the raspberry one’s nice. Then we saw some marvellous pictures Mrs Reid did in India.
It’s over. Thank God.
“The babydoll dress”
I remember moaning to my mother how boring I thought shift dresses were. I’m guessing this was 1966, when Jackie Kennedy dresses were dominating the scene. In contrast, the babydoll dress - this one featured in American Vogue in January ‘67 - was flowing, floaty and bosom-high. The one I wore at the party was from Neatawear - the Topshop of the time. It was dark purple and very cool, patterned with tiny flowers.
Two months later, its hem rose from three inches to six - a thrilling portent of the year to come.
