I sometimes wonder why I do events.
HWMBO and I have a rule. That rule is that I can only organise a big event if the fun that I get out of it is greater than the work I put into it. And generally that’s true. But I reach a point, normally about 72 hours before an event where I feel like running screaming into the street and frothing at the mouth.
This house party has been particularly fraught. We had a guest drop out due to family circumstances, had to promote a maid into the guests place and then a footman dropped out, leaving us short of staff. Each time something changes, I have to painstakingly change and then re-print the paperwork that is taken with us. Waitrose supermarkets suffered a sudden and catastrophic shortage of mackerel, leaving HWMBO to call practically every fishmonger in London and the East of England looking for a supplier. One of the girls couldn’t fit into her dresses and panic ensued, then the new guest had to be kitted out at short notice. Emails have flown. I have lost an oyster shucker* and have been scouring pound shops for a new one. I broke a tray of glasses and had to replace them. One of my crates broke and I can’t find a candlestick or the large roasting tin, so need to buy a new one. And I forgot the tea towels. And HWMBO used the firelighters for the bonfire last week.
For anyone who has never organised a large play event, the complexity of the organisation involved comes as something of a surprise. And when it’s not simple like a schoolday, but complex like a historical play, there is so much more that needs doing. Although everyone who comes to my events generally loves them, I sometimes feel that they don’t quite grasp the things I have to do or the hours I have to put in to make it amazing. But for me personally, it’s all worth it when I smooth down my silk dress, drink my first glass of champagne and just take in the scene before me.
All I am hoping is that when it starts, I will have such a lovely time and be so overwhelmed with play, that it will all be worth it and come the Sunday I will be tired but pleased.
Here’s hoping!
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*Before anyone asks, this is the kitchen tool used for opening oysters without chopping off your own fingers.
Jessica, organising large events of any nature is very stressful, but isn’t it great when it all comes together and you know you have done a great job.
It’s good that you have someone to say “this far and no further.”
Warm hugs,
Paul.
You really are a wonder. My brain would utterly melt if I was attempting a fraction of this.
But I guess it’s a bit like what they (the mysterious “they”) say about childbirth—the memory of the pain must fade since you’re willing to do it more than once!
Actually, I think Caroline has a good metaphor going on there: it’s painful and horrid at the time but you get something amazing out of it at the end. Shotgun godmother of your proverbial baby!
Hello Jessica
As the original lazy bum, it sounds to me like an unimaginably stupefying amount of work. Hope you have a *lovly* weekend.
Yrs in pervery, Adrian
>”For anyone who has never organised a large play event, the complexity of the organisation involved comes as something of a surprise.”
You must realise that, to the best of my knowledge, there is no-one else who has ever organised a kinky event so audacious in its scale, aspiration and meticulous planning as your House Party weekends. And, I suspect, no-one else out there who could succeed in pulling off such a complex roleplaying weekend with quite such remarkable success.
I always worry that you’re not able to truly let go and relax into role yourself during the events, as a result of striving to make things perfect for everyone else; you are such a generous and wonderful host.
Last weekend’s event was a triumph, exceeding even your previous amazing events, and you deserve to be truly proud. Thank you again.