fatvegan

Lib and I went to Nishtha's 21st birthday party last night. Lib's almost running out of 20 year old friends, so there won't be many more. But it's been a big 12 months. We've really got into the flow of things. I've become good friends with people who I've only met at the 21sts of Libby's friends. I think our social life is really going to suffer between now and 2035, when everyone turns 50.

It was a fun and tasty party. Nishtha's parents cooked big tureens of wonderful India food. In the queue for the food, an Indian girl I'd never met asked me if I liked Indian food. I said I really did. She told me it was good to see people taking such huge servings. We had these enormous plastic plates, and I realised that what had been quite a respectable pile of Indian goodness had spread out across the plate, turning it into a rather more embarassing one-man feast. I tried to explain, that the plates were large, and the curry consistency was not very binding, and the rocking motion of the plate whilst I moved along the queue had all conspired to make me appear far more gluttonous that I actually was. She gave me a reassuring smile, but I'm unconvinced that my protests made my plateful any less inspiring to her.

After the eating there was some other stuff. The eating was really the focus of the evening. We did some dancing. The four white couples all danced with their respective partners. The white singles went and sat outside. And all Nistha's Indian friends danced in a tremendous big circle. There were some jazzy Indian dance numbers which really got some Indian feet tapping. Libby threw some cake at Tristan, which I think turned out to be less fun than we all had hoped. I had a nice time. Most of all I liked watching the way this lovely Indian community was so happy and bondy together. I wish other communities could be more like that. Particularly if it meant we got to dance with sticks and arm shaking at parties.