Tales of the bunting...

About that letter from the Street Party Committee then…  “Well, the countdown has now begun to the Street Party to end all Street Parties! With over 150 partygoers already confirmed, the Street Party promises to be a fantastic celebration of the Queen’s Diamond Jubilee!”

On Sunday the committee are hanging out bunting (no, not a euphemism) – miles of it, draping it backwards and forwards across the width of the road from house to house. Just how they are going to do this will be… interesting. The road is wide, the houses a mismatch of Victorian townhouse and Metroland mock Tudor mini-mansion, different heights and different levels. I hope they have ladders, sky-hooks, or at the very least a good sturdy crossbow.

On the day of the party (Monday) I have been asked to sweep up my front path and move my car. All cars must be moved off of the road by 9a.m. when the road closes. No problem there as its been impossible for almost anyone to park on the road for weeks due to the cones and builders vans and the incessant and obsessive behaviour of a certain party who shall remain nameless. As for the sweeping – I know just who to borrow a besom from.

The wristband station opens at 10.30am! YES, the WRISTBAND STATION! We know how to do a thing properly and anyone wandering up a road without a wristband will be physically removed and summarily ejected. WARNING: Second offenders will be hung from the bunting for the pigeons and crows to peck at. Apparently the kids all get Union Jack ‘tattoos’ – well I guess they can have them surgically removed in later life.

The food will be brought out at 12.00 sharp. We are all required to provide 1 sweet and 1 savoury dish to feed at least 6 people, so despite the 150 attendees we are obviously catering for 5,000. I will of course be providing loaves and fishes although I’m not quite sure about the sweet dish – maybe a little ambrosia or some manna? I’ll also be making water into wine… or do I do that the other way around?

At 1.00pm the bouncy castle opens.

At 1.15pm the bouncy castle closes for hosing down in order to remove the children’s lunches.

At around this time the Children’s treasure hunt also commences. Hopefully no children will be lost down drains and eaten by circus clowns.

From 2.00 there will be a number of events including skipping, basketball, a Hula Hoop race, an egg and spoon race, Pinata (Pinwhata?), and of course the Dads v Kids massacre football. Listen, if I know the Dad’s down our road the Kids have no chance. Talk about competitive. Not only do they clean their cars every week, they go running and some of them even play squash! Those poor sweet Kids (the ones that avoid the strategically placed psychotic clowns) have no chance, they’ll have their feet chopped from under them in the blink of an eye and the blind tosser Referee (who is one of the Dad’s) won’t see a thing. I predict 80 - 0 to the Dads on penalties - because Dad’s like taking penalties.

Just before 5.00 the winner of the Best Dressed House and Best Dressed Partygoer will be announced. I’ve no chance with the house (all I have is 60 metres of plastic bunting, 30 flags, 60 red/white/blue balloons, and a dozen life-sized cardboard cut-outs of the Queen), even on ordinary days the array of flags and all things British (particularly badly parked Minis) in our road is outstanding. My neighbours have even gone to the trouble of having a pair of replica Buckingham Palace gates recently installed.

I do have high hopes for the Best Dressed Partygoer though. I did consider a Pearly King or a Beefeater, but in the end decided to dress as Anne Boleyn’s executioner – full face mask, hairy chest wig, black tights, axe and of course a basket with a real severed head in it – that should make the smaller kids into basket (see what I did there) cases giggle.

After this – at five of the Official British Summer Time clock - the party is over and the real party begins with arguments, more beer, more wine, barbecues, more arguments, maybe a parking wars duel or two (muskets customised Uzi Semi-automatics or sabres) and lots of falling over. We’ve been advised to keep our alcohol close at hand and label to avoid confusion. I assume that we should write wine on our wine, beer on our beer, and meths on our meths. Well, if I’ve been drinking since 10am I’m bound to be confused by this time and probably incapable of labelling anything; not even with my usual ‘X’.

 
TOP TIP: I’ve found in the past that super-gluing your bottle to your hand (making it impossible to put it down and lose without smashing) works well in these circumstances.

And finally, as the KGB committee finally instruct on the leaflet – “Enjoy yourself, meet your neighbours and, most of all, HAVE FUN! Let’s make our Street Party a chance for us all to rediscover our Great British Community spirit and have a Jubileetastic day to remember!”

Jubileetastic... Yes, really - don’t worry, I’ll let you know.