Andrew J. Lederer

but not the type usually associated with "the festive season".

Monday, I went to a "do" celebrating the conclusion of several weeks of actual broadcasting by the now (re-)relegated to the internet, Radio Peckham (known far and wide for the jingle proclaiming them "the mighty, mighty, mighty 101.4") and the highlight of the affair was a kid who manhandled pretty much every one of the sandwiches on offer, presumably looking for the best one.

I wouldn't eat those sandwiches afterward, but he handled them with a delicacy that suggested he thought he was being polite. The kid would (in effect) do things with his right hand that were relatively low-impact, while his left hand sent piles of mayonnaisy debris flying toward all corners.

But I was pretty sure I hadn't seen him do much damage to the Jamaican-style chicken, so I opted for more of that and ended up smelling of sulphur for the next few days., a fragrance which likely suggested the arrival of an emissary from Hell at today's party -- the funeral for Earl Okin's mother. (She would have been 95 on Tuesday had she not died on Sunday.)

What a fascinating group -- Earl's 94-year-old ex-landlord was there (he owned a clothing shop on Portobello Road during the post-WWII era) plus Jews of all ages, who reminded me of the New York variety and made it eminently clear that our ethnic lifestyle predates our arrival in our current nations.

Sadly, the otherwise happy experience was marred when I spilled hot coffee, barely missing a sweet octogenarian named Bunny (just after I told her I'd suffered from a disease that robbed me of my taste buds). Perhaps I was shaken up by the hasty disappearance of the lox from the bagels on display.

At any rate, it must have seemed in character to people who first saw me when I entered the funeral late, the door slamming behind me as I conspicuously walked back and forth from my pew, trying to make certain I had the right prayer book.

Then came the lengthy ringing of my cell phone.

I don't know. I think these are the wrong kind of parties.

Doesn't anyone throw Christmas parties anymore?