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Should I stay or should I go to the party?

IT’S THE CHRISTMAS DILEMMA THAT PROCRASTINATORS LOVE TO PONDER...

Craig Brown

When the envelope arrived, I couldn’t decide whether to open it or not. Could it be good news? Or might it be a bill?

I thought of putting it off for a couple of days, and then I thought, no, better to open it straightaway. But then I had second thoughts: let’s not rush into things.

Three or four days later, I opened it. Inside was an invitation headed: THE SOCIETY OF PROCRASTINATORS CHRISTMAS PARTY.

Attached was a little slip of paper: I WILL / WILL NOT / WILL / WILL NOT BE ATTENDING / ACTUALLY YES I WILL / NO I WON’T.

Then the injunction: ‘Please tick no fewer than three of the above options.’

In the end, I ticked all the boxes, just to be on the safe side.

Of course, The Society of Procrastinators was originally called the Procrastinators Society, but then one of the members wondered if it shouldn’t really be called The Procrastinators’ Society, and someone else thought it should be The Procrastinator’s Society. So in the end they renamed it The Society of Procrastinators, though there are still those who wonder whether it isn’t more of an association than a society.

On the day of the party, I couldn’t decide what to wear. I didn’t want to appear too scruffy, but, then again, nor did I want to be the only man in a suit and tie. And should I drive to the Procrastinators’ party, or go by train or bus?

On the other hand, there is always something to be said for walking, because then at any point along the way you can change your mind and hail a taxi, either to take you there, or to take you home, depending on your mood.

Arriving at the venue, I thought I’d walk around the block a few times before going in. I then joined a long line of my fellow guests, all doing the same.

Inside the building, we huddled around the drinks table, unable to decide whether to go for red wine or white wine or elderflower cordial. At the other end of the room, I spotted a woman I knew. As I was going over to see her, it dawned on me that she might prefer to talk to someone else, so I stopped a few yards away from her and hovered.

Looking around, I noticed that my fellow party-goers were hovering, too — and most of them were hovering around people who were also hovering.

At last, the barker put an end to our hovering. ‘My Lords, ladies and gentlemen,’ he announced. ‘Please take your seats as dinner is about to be served! But don’t feel you have to if you’d prefer not to.’

It was sit-wherever-you-like, so for the next half hour all of us were darting from chair to chair, and table to table, unable to make up our minds.

The menu offered a choice of starters and main courses. For 15 minutes we furrowed our brows, muttering ‘Decisions, decisions’, first picking the soup, then switching to the prawn cocktail and then to the pate before finally opting for the soup. I didn’t know whether to speak to the person on my left or the person on my right and nor did they.

At one point, everyone around the table turned to their right, only to find their neighbour’s back turned to them. After two minutes of wondering what to do, they then all turned to their left, and found the same.

TOWARDS the end of the dinner, the president, or chairman as was, rose to his feet. he thought of tinkling his glass with a spoon, decided against, then did it anyway. he had written a speech, but he kept it in his pocket.

‘First, let me bid you all a very merry, or rather happy, Christmas or, if you’d prefer, Xmas,’ he said. ‘At any rate, season’s greetings to you and / or your families and / or friends.’

Dancing followed, or at least a period of time during which we all stared hesitantly at the dance floor, unable to decide.

Finally, the disc jockey played the society’s theme song, Should I Stay Or Should I Go by The Clash, and we all drifted off into the night, or at least decided to give it some serious thought.

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2021-12-02T08:00:00.0000000Z

2021-12-02T08:00:00.0000000Z

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