OddThinking

I don’t think I tend to hold grudges for very long – I haven’t got the brains to remember why I don’t like someone for more than about day.

However, there is one person I do have a grudge for. I have held this grudge for ten years now. I don’t think I will ever forgive him.

Let me set the scene – it is a party being held to celebrate the twenty-first birthdays of a set of female twins – one is a fellow uni student of mine.

The party has been organised by the parents. There is a small amount of tension during the early part of the evening between the formalities being observed by the older relatives and the desire of the birthday girls’ contemporaries to party! party! party!

The tension isn’t at all helped by a novice DJ who is well out of his depth. He has prepared his playlist by issuing slips of paper for people to submit requests, and now is proceeding to play those requests in exactly the order that he has received them. The music is almost drowned out by the moans of pain from the 21-year-olds – the playlist has been dominated by the nostalgic selections of the unhip aunts, uncles and grand-parents who arrived early and filled in request forms while they waited for the younger ones to arrive.

By the time the twins’ father – the soon-to-be target of my long-held grudge – stands up, he has a few drinks under his belt to prepare him for the public speaking, and I sit back happy, ready for a good roasting.

He has a prop – a slide projector! This should be good! The twins are already squirming in fear.

The first slide appears as he explains “This is a photo of the twins on their first day at school.” A cute slide of two five year olds. He advances the slide projector. “This is a photo from their second day at school.” Another slide, indistinguishable from the first one… and so he continues…

Something you may need to know about me is that my cuteness-detection gland is congenitally defective. I am able to recognise cuteness amongst small children, pets and other smelly creatures only if I concentrate hard. It gives me little pleasure.

So I groan inwardly, and I wait patiently, as the slides slowly drag on, describing the lives of two growing girls — actually, no! — describing only one twisted aspect of their lives – a montage of brief moments when they are being cute.

There is no depth here. There is no embarrassment, apart from the general embarrassment of your friends meeting your family when they are drunk. Just photo after photo of society-approved milestones in two young children’s lives.

Finally, he has reached the end of the slide show. “And that’s the last one,” he says, “err… I think. Let me just check.”

He reaches for the slide-projector control. The tension in the room grows slightly, as people wait.

He pretends to fumble with the controls. Wait a moment! I sit bolt upright in anticipation. This guy is about to redeem himself!

He’s drawing out the moment before he displays an embarrassing photo – an ultimate parting shot!

The tension grows stronger.

He holds the control higher in the air, where the audience can all see it.

Then, with perfect dramatic timing, he hits the advance button.

The slide project clicks, and the audience look to the screen, rapt at the vision they behold.

There on the giant projector screen in front of a crowded hall filled with all of the collected family and friends of these two young women is… a blank white square of light. “Yes,” he says to himself, satisfied, “That was the last one.”

I sit back in horror and as his calls for a toast, I contemplate this lost opportunity. I glare with enmity as this buffoon announces that the speeches are over. I hold my head in my hands, and consider this desecration of a sacred, comic, moment as he calls for the DJ to start the music for dancing.

Seconds later, the 21-year-olds join me in my despair, heads in their hands, as the not-so-heavy beats of The Hokey Cokey fill the air.