Since the early 90s I've been going on an annual St George's Day bash organised by friends that I knew when I lived on boats in London. These days I make it about one year in four and my relationship with the event is increasingly ambiguous. It's great to meet up on old Thames barge and see Tower Bridge open for you.
I don't even mind the faux patriotism, as they're a mixed bunch from many walks of life and many of them have a pretty balanced view of what patriotism is and its relationship to nationalism. Actually what I find difficult is the drinking and the fact that since I first started going my life has changed quite radically, whereas most people's hasn't.
I think many of them see me as a much more serious person these days, possibly dangerously thin with an unmentionable disease. The fact is I can't bear getting sick with booze anymore and I have less need to say things in this group setting. I no longer have a desire to entertain or impress.
It was good to take a long look at the flats I was brought up in as a child though and interesting to see the spot where we scattered dad's ashes just a few weeks ago.
Every time I go back for one of these events I tell myself "never again". But four years from now ... who knows?
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