Cretan Village Party for Fergus Strachan’s 50th Birthday

Sunday 13th September 2015

Fergus Strachan took over a Cretan village for his 50th birthday. This is the same village that the Multis were finally unable to be in, although initially from many months they had undertaken to be Fergus’s guests in a village house with me. But at the last minute they had to overturn the arrangement and did not take the accommodation already paid for by Fergus. Instead they positioned themselves in a block of flats by the sea a few miles away, from where their anxiety built up as how they would join the birthday party group in the village. What a rich web the Poor Little Rich Gay weaves to belong and yet be apart and above. Their plan to introduce Aracnia Chronicopoulos into the village house unbeknownst to me was foiled though. I, Adrian Edge, saw to that.  In glory the Multis appeared in a Volkswagen open top vehicle little modified from the one in which Hitler paraded through the streets. But further sadness for them ensued. And a thunderbolt was dropped elsewhere.

Guests assembled for the main birthday celebration on Monday in the courtyard of Angus and Fergus’s particular village house. All were dressed in white by request which produced a strange effect of uniformity and sprite-like presence although the vast majority of the guests are known to be utterly impossible and massively present as persons. Dr Whipper, for instance, had earlier showed his Prada shirt, which early in its career, had acquired ink stains. The Doctor was days and days with solvents and finally re-dyed the entire shirt. His wife, Olive Wildish, the fabric designer who has recently been 4 weeks up a mountain in Morocco with some Moroccan weaving ladies (no running water), explained that her husband is quite capable of setting off for Felixstowe on a Sunday where he will wind-surf in muddy  water 3 miles out of sea. The equipment, you may know, is a tiny board with a sail and you have to cling on for dear life but the whizzing along is thrilling. Dr Whipper has also developed a cure for anorexia: pay no attention. It works wonders and it recommended by specialists world-wide. Charlie Hurling was wearing a white dress, or rather a shift with overtones of the mental patient in Little Britain. There was a danger to the floor beneath him from willed incontinence.

Poor Angus – Monday was the hottest day. Over 40c. All day he’d been in a furnace with octopus, liver, various pastes. Archie had tormented him about the beans, falsely claiming to have drained them while Angus’s back was turned which caused an outbreak of viciousness. On top of this Angus had a plan of which he’d told nobody but which was to cause a sensation.

Finally the Multis arrived, late. The Photo Multi was already photographing. They poured forth charm which was a wise move for the story of their spurning of Fergus’s village house had been widely circulated amongst those who had never met them and there was a serious swing to the Left , the kind of cruel anti-money thrust which could lead to the Mansion Tax. But the Multis asked questions and the Photo Multi took photos. The Blond Multi confided that he is terribly shy and finds social occasions so difficult. Sadly he was to be spurned the next day by some of Fergus’s friends, one of whom’s father was a milkman. The tragedy is that had the Blond Multi been in the village house as originally planned with me, and thereby been integrated, none of this misfortune would have befallen him. But as we know, being in the village house surrounded by others was impossible for the Multis.

But back to Fergus’s glorious white party for his 50th birthday. Fergus had somehow acquired a megaphone through which he addressed the guests. I think it was about the music which was a medley of dance tunes from his lifetime. But Angus was at his side and up to something. He handed Fergus a card which Fergus read. Whatever it was it had a strong effect but whether a paroxysm of laughter or tears it was impossible to tell. What could it be? Was Angus announcing that he’d be doing less with pastry in the future. Or moving more into chick peas. Fergus was still being urged to read the card aloud but could not. Finally Angus seized it and began. It was a poem, in rhyme. Well, the final line went…. ‘Will you marry me? It was as if at once the entire Cretan village fell down. All the ladies burst into tears and either rushed to hug Fergus or fell to the floor. It’s been years, you see. Angus just wouldn’t marry because of his Poor Little Rich Gay independence. He wouldn’t and wouldn’t. Raymonda, his niece, knew all about it and was saying so. So at last at last, they’re to marry. And the joy was tremendous. Even more so when the truth quickly dawned. Another function! I was not alone in thinking: yards and yards of oyster satin; bags and shoes dyed to match. Outfits, menus, hair, gloves…. ‘The bridesmaid’s been fingered,’ Charlie Hurling was shouting. What could he have meant? Mercifully he didn’t wet the floor beneath his frock at least. But yes, bridesmaids, matrons of honour, intimate bridal attendants, the pre-bridal state, the actual bridal and post-bridal states. Months and months of delicious planning.

After that, Angus served a self-made baklava to the delirious bombed-out guests, some of whom were yet to rise from the floor. It was a baklava to surpass all baklavas because Angus had put lemon juice. Just as he did with the lamb on my first night. Angus’s use of lemon was the huge food story of the Cretan holiday, but it’s another story. Now after the food service and proposing marriage, he sat and was silent from the drama. Finally he said, ‘I hear people were crying when I proposed marriage. I can’t think why.’ I was quick to agree. Of course beneath the hard-bitten exterior Poor Little Rich Gays seethe with feeling. But we must go on, prancing, glancing, silly and never go-ey or lovely. Always a steel glint.

Charlie Hurling and Fern Willis in White for Fergus Strachan’s 50th Birthday

The View from the Cretan Village House Where Fergus Strachan’s 50th Birthday Took Place

The Great Moment: Fergus and Angus Become Engaged, After Angus Proposes Before all the Guests at Fergus’s 50th Birthday Party

Charlie Hurling Suffers a Wedgie at Fergus Strachan’s 50th Birthday Party in Crete

The Actual Card Containing Angus Willis’s Earth-Shattering Proposal of Marriage to Fergus Strachan

 

 

 

Posted Sunday, September 13, 2015 under Adrian Edge day by day.

3 comments

  1. Fergus Strachen says:

    An occasion, the memory of which shall be savoured until the end of time. But has Adrian confused Archie with Charlie? They are so like Brangelina, it is true. Perhaps Archlie?

  2. Adrian Edge says:

    I am not sure to what you refer?

  3. Adrian Edge says:

    I see now. I hope I have corrected all the mis-namings

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