It was the annual Fireman’s Ball last Saturday night. It’s actually called the Doctors’ Children’s Fund Ball, now I think – but I am not sure where the apostrophes go in that mouthful! This was my third one. Ball that is. Several of the alpha females that live here bandy together and arrange what is supposed to be the social event of the year for us here in the jungle. A theme is always chosen and months of planning, preparation go into making the evening special. So the women who plan it think anyway. This year was the enchanted forest – lots of fairies and butterflies. I described it to my colleague who went also, as very poofy and pastel. You get the picture. Everyone scrubs up and arrives looking resplendent in their chosen finery. (I hate to think how many metres of tulle and taffeta died to make that dress!) People sit at pre-booked tables and are served food whilst there are silent auctions to raise money. Back in the old days it was called the Fireman’s Ball because fireman’s hats from cities in America were auctioned and it was a chance for the big bananas of the company I work for to show how big their wallets were (or compensate for the size of their penis.)
This year lots of trivial stuff was auctioned for fairly high prices and I am glad lots of money was raised to help children in this country get the corrective surgery they need to lead normal lives. The food was crap. The wine didn’t flow. I made many bids on two quilts and was quite prepared to part with a lot of money for them but someone a lot richer than me got them. I had a great time though. I always dirty dance with lots of the married women whose husbands are too anal to let go. And I mean dirty dance. It was also a great night too because this Indonesian guy kept looking at me. We made eye contact and he went outside leaving me with no doubt that he wanted me to follow him. So I did. He came home with me. You could say – I had a ball, both at the ball and after the ball.
It was the annual Fireman’s Ball last Saturday night. It’s actually called the Doctors’ Children’s Fund Ball, now I think – but I am not sure where the apostrophes go in that mouthful! This was my third one. Ball that is. Several of the alpha females that live here bandy together and arrange what is supposed to be the social event of the year for us here in the jungle. A theme is always chosen and months of planning, preparation go into making the evening special. So the women who plan it think anyway. This year was the enchanted forest – lots of fairies and butterflies. I described it to my colleague who went also, as very poofy and pastel. You get the picture. Everyone scrubs up and arrives looking resplendent in their chosen finery. (I hate to think how many metres of tulle and taffeta died to make that dress!) People sit at pre-booked tables and are served food whilst there are silent auctions to raise money. Back in the old days it was called the Fireman’s Ball because fireman’s hats from cities in America were auctioned and it was a chance for the big bananas of the company I work for to show how big their wallets were (or compensate for the size of their penis.) 
The kids I teach on a Friday afternoon for art keep saying, “That’s random.” I am fascinated. They are quite astute actually and I understand what they mean. Everything really is random and nothing will convince me otherwise. Yes, they have art on a Friday afternoon like back in the good old days. When I was at school I secretly looked forward to the craft activity that was done on Friday afternoon. It was always so soul satisfying being able to create something. It wasn’t really considered very important but I knew back then it was. That is why I loved it so much. We are becoming people who don’t create or fashion materials anymore and just push buttons or react to things. Bad move.
