Pinguin party
"British wines are getting better every year. I think I am one of the few people pleased with global warming," says the owner of a wine shop in Clapham, London.
A few moments ago I dashed into his shop, because I forgot that I had to buy a wine for the wedding of a friend. With a group of people we bought a wine fridge for him and his wife-to-be. Empty. The idea was to fill it. And now I am here, in a rush, feeling like Hugh Grant in Four Weddings and a Funeral, only slightly looking less smooth after three days of London and it's nightlife. I forgot about the idea. The shop owner looks at me bemused, and while he eyes my morningsuit, with my shirt slightly untucked, he tells me he hopes the weather stays ok. So do I- I forgot my umbrella.
The first friend from university is getting married to a British girl, and we fratboys are mightly exited. One down, 15 to go, is the feeling as one describes it.
It is funny, but suddenly, now for the first time ever, I realise that we are no students anymore. No matter what kind of jobs we have or had, no matter how serious some of the guys have become (ok, occasionally), I always thought of these friends, and myself, as students, pinguins, in the first place, and as professionals or anything else in the very, very last place, despite the conversations about work, new employment and buying of houses we very often have. And now, while sitting in the church, I start seeying us for what we are: friends, boy-friends, a husband and some even in-the-more-than-nine-months-but-near-future-fathers-to-be. Anything but students. We hum to hymnes in church, we act as adults during dinner. And might studying once again, but will never be students again. Which is a nice thought- live moves on.
A few moments ago I dashed into his shop, because I forgot that I had to buy a wine for the wedding of a friend. With a group of people we bought a wine fridge for him and his wife-to-be. Empty. The idea was to fill it. And now I am here, in a rush, feeling like Hugh Grant in Four Weddings and a Funeral, only slightly looking less smooth after three days of London and it's nightlife. I forgot about the idea. The shop owner looks at me bemused, and while he eyes my morningsuit, with my shirt slightly untucked, he tells me he hopes the weather stays ok. So do I- I forgot my umbrella.
The first friend from university is getting married to a British girl, and we fratboys are mightly exited. One down, 15 to go, is the feeling as one describes it.
It is funny, but suddenly, now for the first time ever, I realise that we are no students anymore. No matter what kind of jobs we have or had, no matter how serious some of the guys have become (ok, occasionally), I always thought of these friends, and myself, as students, pinguins, in the first place, and as professionals or anything else in the very, very last place, despite the conversations about work, new employment and buying of houses we very often have. And now, while sitting in the church, I start seeying us for what we are: friends, boy-friends, a husband and some even in-the-more-than-nine-months-but-near-future-fathers-to-be. Anything but students. We hum to hymnes in church, we act as adults during dinner. And might studying once again, but will never be students again. Which is a nice thought- live moves on.
posted by David Hein at 9:03 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home