NORMAL LIFE: How 16 Became 5

Bree and I had already done some pre-party predictions ahead of the get together we organised to celebrate my six years of living in Finland. We came to the conclusion that, of the sixteen people who confirmed more than six weeks before the party date, one or two would cancel.

So, last Thursday, ahead of the rush on the eve of All Saints Day (usually the first Saturday in November) we went to stores, filling out trolley with loads of booze and food to entertain out guests with. We spent more than €250 overall.

To my disbelief, between Thursday evening and Friday evening, five people cancelled. We had eleven guests remaining, but all of my personal favourites had cancelled so I was faced with holding a party celebrating my six years in Finland largely with Bree's friends. How embarrassing. How Finnish to be let down in this way, I thought to myself.

The humiliation was going around and around in my head. What should I do? How dare those people cancel! Do I even want the party any longer? These feelings of disappointment were not alien to me. In fact, it seems to have become acceptable to cancel your attendance at the very last minute, sometimes with the most pathetically weak of excuses.

So, this is what I did and it turned out very well. I sent a text message to the remaining eleven, cancelling the party. Some responded, voicing concerning, hoping everything was okay. I responded to one in particular, Mrs Knight, and invited her around for dinner instead; after all, we had lot's of food and drink that need to be eaten and drank. Bree also invited his friend, who also bought his partner.

I surprised myself by falling into a deep slumber that night, somewhat pleased that I took charge of a situation that had the potential the get even worse. Without a doubt, someone else would have cancelled on the day and, by taken action, I had somewhat prevented further disappointment.

When I woke up on Saturday, it was snowing for the first time this year. Well, it was kind of like sleet, but a thin film had settled on the cars outside. Bree busied himself by preparing quiche, home-made olive oil bread and blueberry pie while I popped into town to take some photos for my weekly photography course assignment. I walked among the streets, taking photos of colourful shop window displays, playing with the settings on my digital camera to the best possible effect.

When I returned home, I busied myself with cleaning the apartment, setting the table, fluffing up the sofa cushions, putting new candles in place, vacuuming. I was getting in the mood and, after a nap, it was time to welcome Mrs Knight. When she arrived, I explained what had happened and she totally understood. Like a knight in shining armour, she was my saviour as the night progressed - she makes me laugh, she's witty, intelligent and has great stories.

An hour later, one of Bree's friends arrived with his partner. The five of us gathered around the glass coffee table, giggling over subjects ranging from big boobs, how people smell more now that smoking has been banned in bars, body waxing and sharing bedrooms with colleagues on business trips. Not once, as Bree pointed out later, did anybody talk about work.

During one point, we got to talking about a party Bree's friend had hosted a year ago. Apparently, there was a really good looking guy there who I spent most of the evening talking to, much to Bree's annoyance and to our fellow guest's astonishment. In my defence, however, I had no idea who they were talking about!

The time flew by and it was time to head to our local bar, with the help of taxi now that we were somewhat under the influence. Inside, and as a group, we waded through the crowd, surprised by such a large turn out on what is Finland's only public holiday on a Saturday. Old, but entertaining music blared from the speakers, such as Kylie's Your Disco Needs You and Madonna's Like A Prayer, both personal favourites of mine.

It was time for Mrs Knight to leave. She told me had a wonderful time, and I thanked her for her understanding and for saving me one again. She smiled the way only she can smile, full of sincerity. She hugged me hard, before she hugged Bree goodbye and then she was gone. Bree's friend had long disappeared and once again it was just the two of us.

We stood on the edge of the dancefloor, hopeful that another good track would play. None did. Despite this, we smiled at eachother, knowing that a lesson had been learned: no more parties for these ungrateful fuckers! Instead, we will have these wonderfully small, intimate get-togethers where we can talk about women with big boobs and waxing, which is something you can't do in a room of sixteen people!