Tagged: Parties

Quote of the Day: Peter O’Toole on how to party properly

As we’re now well and truly into the party season, here’s some very good advice on how to get the best out of your festive bash from the late actor and professional hellraiser Peter O’Toole. Does this perhaps describe your work Christmas party?

Fornication, madness, murder, drunkenness, shouting, shrieking, leaping polite conversation and the breaking of bones, such jollities constitute acceptable behaviour, but no acting allowed.

I’m sure O’Toole both hosted and attended many an epic party along such lines, although I’m not sure he’d remember much of it the the following day – after all, this was a man who once self-deprecatingly said:

I loved the drinking, and waking up in the morning to find I was in Mexico. It was part and parcel of being an idiot.

Idiot or not, he was a great actor in his time, and the worlds of theatre and film are lessened by his passing – they don’t make them like Peter O’Toole any more. Raise a festive toast in his memory at the next wild Christmas party you go to…

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Reclaim Love 2013: Release the Peace

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It’s hard to believe that this year’s Reclaim Love was the tenth of these annual events in London. My first was in 2010, and that seems like a mere five minutes ago… (you can find photos from previous Reclaim Love events here, here and here).

After last year’s downpour, the weather gods were kind to us – and old friends came from near and far to celebrate ten years of bringing peace and love to the streets of London. Here’s a few pics from Saturday’s gathering at Piccadilly Circus…

May all the beings in all the worlds be happy and at peace…

Reclaim Love 2012

It’s February, which means it’s Reclaim Love time again. With my camera in tow, and despite the pouring rain in London yesterday, I headed off to Piccadilly Circus in order to bring you a taste of this annual pavement party, which is dedicated to bringing real love back to the whole world.

You can see some of my photos from previous Reclaim Love events here and here.

May all the beings in all the worlds be happy and at peace…

Put some fizz into your summer!

Cocktails

Image via Wikipedia

I don’t often post recipes, but it’s now June, and that means the real beginning of summertime (we’re now only a couple of weeks away from the summer solstice and the longest day, believe it or not). And summertime means barbeques and picnics and parties and outdoor fun – assuming it doesn’t rain, of course, and that’s a big assumption to make about the British summertime!

Of course, barbeques, picnics and parties – enjoyable though they are on their own – are not really complete without something fizzy and preferably alcoholic to get happily drunk on while sitting in the park or the back garden with your mates and your sunnies on.

The popularity of Pimms as the essential summer drink in recent years is all very well (don’t get me wrong, I love the stuff), but here’s a few slightly different ideas for quick, easy and delicious summery sort-of-cocktails, most of which were inspired by friends and family.

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Reclaim Love 2011

Readers with long memories will recall the fun I had at the Reclaim Love pavement party in 2010. You won’t be surprised to hear, then, that I had to return for more hugs, drumming, music and dancing in central London at the eighth of these enjoyable gatherings, held last weekend on a beautiful and surprisingly warm winter’s day. Here’s a few photos of the fun and games:

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Reclaim Love 7, or (What’s So Funny ‘Bout) Peace, Love and Understanding?

“If peace on earth was declared today, what would you have to do to keep it that way?”

On Saturday 13th February, a group of like-minded people gathered under the statue of Eros in London’s Piccadilly Circus to dance and drum and eat and hug and celebrate the idea of universal love and peace (photos below). Reclaim Love, the organisers of this, the seventh of these annual ‘pavement parties’, printed up flyers explaining why it was both important and necessary:

“We have called this gathering in response to the fear and confusion in the World at this time. We have decided to send LOVE and HEALING to all the Beings in all the Worlds in an effort to restore peace and harmony throughout infinity”

Now, I am aware that my approval of all that makes the usual cynical lefty me sound like a sad old hippy who has taken too much LSD in her time (um, actually…) and probably says ‘groovy’ far too often for her own good (guilty as charged), but I like the idea of universal love and peace.

In this damaged world where everything has become a commodity, love and peace have become rare and precious artefacts while so many people are suffering because of hatred and war.

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For Auld Lang Syne (or Something): Goodbye 2009

I don’t do New Year’s Eve. Call me a party pooper if you like, but I really do not enjoy it and never have. It’s never anywhere near as much fun as we all convince ourselves it’s going to be every year, for a start. I honestly can’t figure out what’s fun about freezing your arse off in, say, central London, crammed in with thousands of other cold, drunken, slightly annoyed people, watching a few fireworks that you can see just as well (and without all the crowds) on your TV screen at home.

Then there’s the clubs. Just because it’s NYE, ticket prices suddenly go through the roof, the line-up is half-hearted at best, the drinks are both watered down and stupidly expensive, and the place is invariably full of idiots on far too much of whatever the current drug of choice is, drooling and windmilling round the dancefloor in a deeply annoying fashion and incoherently trying to chat up inanimate objects (and the occasional actual person). The loo queues will be like the first day of the January sales, and you have to freeze half to death outside if you want a cigarette. Um, no.

Just. Not. Interested.

And all that’s before you have to even think about getting home at the end of the night. Free public transport, yes, but free public transport full of lairy drunks, gaggles of screeching teenagers and the inevitable sleepyhead who passes out in a pool of vomit at the back of the night bus and ends up at Heathrow or somewhere else equally remote to the average Londoner.

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