Image by NoName_13 from Pixabay
Publication Date: January 2026
Location: PoetsOnline.org, specifically in the Party Issue.
Genesis: The prompt to write a piece on a party made me reflect on all those I’ve been to over the years; and to realise that I may have forgotten about most of them! Then, I quickly assumed that most submissions would be positive and uplifting (I was almost right!), and so I decided to go the other way.
This party is etched onto my memory, and happened at the very beginning of my first extended trip to Australia. Other memorable experiences from that time include;
- a 10-day trip from Sydney to Brisbane aboard a double-decker camping bus, with bunks upstairs and a kitchen a living area downstairs
- a trip to the cinema to see a double bill – Natural Born Killers, followed by A Clockwork Orange – and during the second feature, the building was hit by a whirly-whirly and the entire auditorium collapsed. Incredibly, no one was hurt. I’ve yet to see the second half of A Clockwork Orange!
- practicing qi gong on the beach
- an ill-advised plunge in the ocean at a very remote, unmanned beach, in massive surf
- a pre-dawn climb up Mount Warner (into cloud and mist, unfortunately)
- one-on-one interactions with a couple of kangaroos and one huge monitor lizard
But I digress. Enjoy the piece.
In a corner and on my own,
feeling weirdly awkward and alone.
Overwhelmed, I can read neither faces nor tones,
like I’ve forgotten every social skill
I’ve ever known.
I’ve spent the last year
living in a small city in South Korea
developing, unnoticed, a visceral fear
of being around fellow native English speakers
and it’s choosing this moment to appear.
This is not a hostile crowd!
Yes, the beachfront apartment is packed, and loud,
with friends, and friends of friends; no need to be cowed
into a corner, on my own,
beneath a grey, personal thundercloud.
You OK? I’m fine. A blatant lie.
I’m picking at the buffet, trying not to cry.
A spring roll. Some crisps. A bowl of spicy stir-fry.
But the fear’s killed my appetite; I can’t even taste!
I retreat to the balcony as it intensifies.
Several deep breaths of warm Pacific air.
Sit myself down in a rattan armchair.
I can smell frangipani and gardenia
and slowly, very slowly, the turmoil subsides
along with that strong urge to be elsewhere.
Johnny joins me. Then Celia, Trevor, Tone.
I stay outside until most of the guests have gone.
In the early hours, I’m once again on my own,
feeling better, more grounded, my equilibrium restored,
and happy this unsettling episode is now done.
It turns out that was a one-off event.
I never figured out what it really meant.
I’ve never since found myself spiralling, sent
so deeply into self-doubt and fear.
I try to live right here, in the present.