What makes a good party?

This past Saturday witnessed one of my most successful parties in Kenya to date.

We had a drinkipoos to celebrate Christmas; I put on a modest spread of peanuts, salami, crisps, sausages on sticks and a few shortbread biscuits.  As is customary guests were encouraged almost to obligation to bring a bottle of something intoxicating and come ready to enjoy the evening to the fullest.  I had arrived back from Lagos the evening before a tad tardy due to "late arrival of the incoming aircraft" nonsense and a torrential downpour over the runway in Nairobi causing the charming pilot to abort an attempted landing, veering southwards, banking for half an hour and then finally touching down to the rapturous applause of the Nigerian passengers; she erred on the side of caution and I suppose they (and I) were grateful for that.  At least I got home in one piece.

I digress.

So the night before, still on Lagos-time, I had rearranged the furniture to make more space - I was expecting quite a few to furn up - and started to get plates, cups, glassware at the ready.  Luckily, my helper, Emmy, had already assisted in this - which was a Godsend. 

Then on the day itself, I adorned several vases with various ikebana-esque arrangements - some of which looked like the blooms had been cast from 10 metres away.  A bit more furniture moving, then slicing and dicing for the pasta, chopping and cutting for the cold meats selection and we were good to go.

Mince pies were at hand for the gluttonous, (thanks P), the wine flowed as at Canna for those in need of lubrication and there was music for all tastes - well almost all.

I must admit, I ensured that candles were lit and sparkling - even in the powder room - the Christmas tree was glistening with fairy lights to get us in the mood of Yuletide, the early birds coiffed a limited supply of champagne and the room had been doused with enough tuberose scent to have half the bees of Kenya swarming. 

But you see, that's not enough.  That doesn't make a party, or at least a good party.  And the jovial, witty, erudite host can only take part of the credit - a small part, I might add.

It's the guests that make a good party - of course.

The dutifully faithful turned up on schedule my good friends R & V laden down with water, fruit juices and just under 100 samosas - why just under I enquired and the honest reply was returned that some had been eaten on the way - well who can blame them - they were handmade and delicious.  Thank you Carla...

Slowly but surely,  the apartment filled and then swelled with the invited; and then burgeoned with the not-so-invited until there were about 60 or 70 in the place, over-spilling quite necessarily to a rather fortunately large balcony, and the eclectic mix of guest assured a lively if not raucous exchange of conversation and chatter.

Groups formed, discussions were energetic and lively, and the mood was palpably electric - and the vodka helped  ;-)

The night went on, the neighbours complained, the early birds left and the die-hards partied hard.  We danced, we laughed, we imbibed.

And that's what makes a good party: the people; those silly persistent guests who enjoy, inhale, hoover up everything life has to offer.  I'm blessed to know so many of this type of human being - and that they want to come to my parties.  It's the guests - it's the people who make a good party.