The other day, whilst researching for my dissertation on walking, I decided some 'fieldwork' was necessary and, as it was swelteringly hot, I headed for Regents Park. Unfortunately for me, so did everyone else, which meant it was packed with sunbathers and the like, with no transquility being bestowed by the park upon the walker. I walked the outskirts until I had completed nearly the whole park, and felt I had taken a long enough walk. It was at this point that I realised I had forgotten my wallet...and I was thirsty. I could not just walk up to somebody and ask for a drink, and yet I was incredibly thirsty.
I heard a lot of loud music coming from outside the park itself. I therefore climbed out, and found myself in front of one of the many huge Regent's Park mansions, one of which is owned by Mick Jagger, I believe. One of these walk holding a private garden party. I needed a drink. I untucked my shirt, rolled up the sleeves, put on my shades, and headed in. I waved hello to a few of the refined, posh women who were in the hallway, and apologised to them for being late. Late? I know, I wasn't even invited, but I couldn't blow my cover. They were a bit tipsy and, giving me the once over, said I was right on time, and should head out into the garden. I did, and it was the most magnificent garden I had ever seen. The lawn was beautifully maintained, there was a huge barbecue, a set of swings. I turned around, and saw the huge white mansion I had walked into. It was like being in the White House! I ,mingled, got my drink, had some salad, and five minutes had passed without anyone noticing that actually, nobody was acquainted with me! I decided I should leave before someone did, and had me arrested! I said my farwells, and walked out, right out the front door!
THAT was a stunt I aim never to pull again. I'm only young once though, and know that I will never be on any sort of salary to be able to affor such a place, so I needed to see what it was like. Why did nobody throw me out? Well, it seems that there are certain rules of sociability which are unwritten and, therefore, can be worked within by individuals. I had the apparel, the behaviour, the sophisticated talk of the other posh party-goers, and they therefore mentally accepted that either I was one of them, or was crazy enough to walk into a psoh party uninvited. Though the latter was true (minus the thing about being crazy, or not!), they believed the former was the case, due to its being more probable.
I heard a lot of loud music coming from outside the park itself. I therefore climbed out, and found myself in front of one of the many huge Regent's Park mansions, one of which is owned by Mick Jagger, I believe. One of these walk holding a private garden party. I needed a drink. I untucked my shirt, rolled up the sleeves, put on my shades, and headed in. I waved hello to a few of the refined, posh women who were in the hallway, and apologised to them for being late. Late? I know, I wasn't even invited, but I couldn't blow my cover. They were a bit tipsy and, giving me the once over, said I was right on time, and should head out into the garden. I did, and it was the most magnificent garden I had ever seen. The lawn was beautifully maintained, there was a huge barbecue, a set of swings. I turned around, and saw the huge white mansion I had walked into. It was like being in the White House! I ,mingled, got my drink, had some salad, and five minutes had passed without anyone noticing that actually, nobody was acquainted with me! I decided I should leave before someone did, and had me arrested! I said my farwells, and walked out, right out the front door!
THAT was a stunt I aim never to pull again. I'm only young once though, and know that I will never be on any sort of salary to be able to affor such a place, so I needed to see what it was like. Why did nobody throw me out? Well, it seems that there are certain rules of sociability which are unwritten and, therefore, can be worked within by individuals. I had the apparel, the behaviour, the sophisticated talk of the other posh party-goers, and they therefore mentally accepted that either I was one of them, or was crazy enough to walk into a psoh party uninvited. Though the latter was true (minus the thing about being crazy, or not!), they believed the former was the case, due to its being more probable.
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