I went into Colchester this morning, so thought I'd call by at the Arts Centre box office and get a couple of tickets for The Full English, the latest folk supergroup, but when I checked the date on their website the gig was already sold out. I wasn't totally gutted. If I'd really, really wanted to go I'd have bought tickets as soon as I saw the band was visiting Colchester, hence we've already got tickets for Adrian Edmondson and the Bad Shepherds in early December, which is also a sell-out. I bought tickets for that back in about January, as soon as I noticed scrolling down the events page of the Arts Centre website that it was on.
Originally I tried to persuade a friend to come with me to The Full English. We've been to a few gigs together, including a folk concert and a poetry reading, both organised by her, and it sounded like something she might like. She seemed keen initially, but was difficult to pin down, and I stopped trying and asked the Systems Administrator to come instead, who agreed, but in a sort of All right, I don't mind if you want to go way, rather than shouting Brilliant, I really want to see them!! I didn't rush to get our tickets, and now it's too late.
The friend recently apologised for being so elusive about invitations, and explained that she was very concerned about her son, who had just started at university and was absolutely hating it, to the point of wanting to give up. She, meanwhile, couldn't find the heart to go out. I was sorry to hear about her worries, though mildly relieved to be given an explanation for her recent coolness. I didn't think I'd done anything to offend her, but had begun to wonder. On the other hand, I had not stressed about it unduly. One of the benefits of reaching middle age is that, along with the worsening eyesight and increasingly untrustworthy lower back, you do learn that it's generally not about you. If someone is behaving uncharacteristically, it might be your fault, but it probably isn't. Most likely they have their own stuff to deal with.
It's a tricky area, the offering and declining of invitations. Some of the bravest (and most financially exposed) souls are those members of cricket and rugby clubs who put in for their maximum entitlement for tickets to major events as soon as the ballot opens, without any idea which, if any of their friends and relations will be free on the third Thursday of July 2015 and would like to go to Lords. The ticket prices are steep, and if when it comes to the point nobody can get the day off work, or it clashes with their wife's birthday, the original applicant will be left holding the surplus tickets with no means of redress. They can't blame their friends, since they didn't ask them if they wanted to go when they bought the tickets. Be grateful, and a little humble, to those who obtain members-only tickets to events and then offer them to you. They have carried all the underwriting risk themselves.
It is kind to your friends, when invited to anything they have to book in advance, to give them an answer there and then, or at least shortly afterwards. This is a difficult counsel to live up to, and I myself have been guilty recently of being vague and dilatory about whether or not I wanted to go and see John Cooper Clarke. According to the lifestyle sections of the Telegraph and Guardian, this is a modern epidemic of manners, blamed on the ubiquity of the mobile phone (instant communication allows last minute plans) and a general fear of committing to anything in advance in case another invitation to something better turns up later. Journalists must get more invitations than I do, since my lack of decision was based on nothing more than not being sure if I liked John Cooper Clarke. I suppose the fact I couldn't visualise who he was should have told me that I wasn't very keen.
It is equally kind to your friends, if they don't leap at the chance to do something, not to keep asking them. One gentle reminder should suffice, then if they still won't commit go ahead and book without them, or abandon the plan. They may find it difficult to tell you to your face that they can't afford the tickets, can't stand your partner, or that an evening of listening to Peruvian nose flute music is not their idea of fun.
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