Classy lady

I'm not really in the mood for writing but I should tell you about the Russian evening. If you've been around my blog, you might remember how - not so very many posts ago - I was all in a tangle and a tizz because Pal had been invited to the birthday party of a R. student of his... See Dec. 12 and 13th if you really want to know how bad it was...

Well, the evening came - last Friday. We'd both had a busy day and were in a rush. At the last minute, we discovered that Pal's dark blue trousers, the ones he wanted to wear, were missing. I was to blame, according to him. We looked everywhere. Eventually found them in our broken down washing machine where they'd been for the best part of a week. An enraged Pal told me this was my fault too. There followed a furious flurry of activity while he scoured the wardrobe, eventually finding a pair of light khaki-coloured trousers. By this time, I was sheltering in the bathroom, putting the finishing touches and feeling surprising calm, despite the whirlwind raging around me... (He gets angry, gets it over with and then it's done. I know that by now).

Anyway, we set off in a perfectly foul mood to drive to the other side of town, already half an hour late. I just have a sort of feeling that an evening that starts this badly has got to be good. That's just the way life is - contrary. My feeling of alarm - that had reached a pitch a day or so earlier when he announced that he was going to the party alone (then changed his mind when he saw my reaction) - has been replaced by curiosity. What will it be like, this party with a bunch of Rs? (I'll use the abbreviation as I don't want them all turning up here via google, wonderful though they are!)

So we get there to this modern end-of-block house and we're greeted by the hostess who turns out to be a simply lovely, classy lady with two very friendly, open daughters. There are seven or eight other guests already there, most of them from R. and mostly dressed in black. Good, I'm wearing the right colour... It's a bit starchy and formal. One Dutchman, married to an R., greets us jovially. He turns out to be the clown (almost the village idiot, frankly) of the evening.

A few drinks and handshakes and we're sitting down around the glass living room table, now bedecked with plates of R. delicacies made by Classica's (I'll call her) clever daughters. I feel a bit guilty. We've just had dinner and these people are waiting to eat. The food was delicious. Did you ever know R. food was so good? I didn't. And with the food and wine, the conversation gets going a bit - punctuated relentlessly by the Dutchman who never misses a chance to make a fool of himself. There were three Dutchmen there, me and Pal, and then the rest were Rs.

I didn't know R. was such a musical language. They talked it a lot amongst themselves but somehow managed to include us every few minutes with a Dutch aside so we quickly had the feeling we were part of it. In fact, I can't remember a party in recent years - including some of my own - where I felt so much part of it. These Rs are simply a great bunch of people: witty, highly educated, with class, style, culture and a real appreciation of the good things in life - including their friendship with each other.

There were a couple of clues that indicated that most, maybe all of them, were R. Jews - the surname of one, the word ' asylum' was mentioned, here and there a reference to the asylum camp and to the difficult times they'd gone through.

The conversations were just brilliant. So much to talk about and so many interests - particularly in language - to share. And there was singing too. Melancholy but beautiful R. songs. And, from Pal, some Beatles songs and Spanish love songs that made your eyes water. He charmed them all, of course, while the Dutchmen next to him increasingly disgraced himself as the night wore on. (Fortunately, his wife took him home eventually and we got to talk to two of the R. women who've been friends since birth. The story of those two alone would make a book.)

You can't convey in words - and certainly, I can't, in half an hour on my blog - just what a great evening it was. It just felt like both me and Pal had found the friends we wanted to be with, found ' our place'. I'm not a party animal at all and usually fade out after 1am-ish - if I've not already withdrawn before. But this party was something else. I was still awake, engaged, enjoying myself and not wanting to leave at 3am. Pal too.

And it's all because of that classy R. lady who - as she says it herself - loves to gather special people around her. "He's a special man," she said. And I have to agree (with one addendum: jj's special too!)

Heh, just think what I'd have missed if I'd remained all huddled up in a jealous grump!