The Yule Ball

Or As Close As I'm Going to Get

Anyone who knows me knows of my unyielding and exuberant love for Harry Potter (I mean, I sewed myself a Ravenclaw robe, for goodness sake). Growing up, I thought of myself as Hermione (just a little quieter), and I waited with more than a little actual belief for my Hogwarts letter to come. I have always been completely enamored of the series, especially the completely magical Yule Ball from the fourth book. At home, in high school and even at Wellesley we never had any truly black-tie formal events, and certainly no winter formals where everything was festive and frosted, and I think that’s why I loved the idea of the Yule Ball so much (because, let’s be real, aside from the Waltz at the beginning and the whole magic aspect, it’s fairly similar to Prom). Winter itself has always felt sort of magical to me, so the idea of getting dressed up in the winter, and of dancing around in a ballroom covered with snow and silvery ornaments, and frosted ‘ice’ decorations seemed so perfect and wonderful.

Well, of course, coming to study in England, I got my wish! My residence, Devonshire Hall, threw a Christmas Ball on December 2, and it was amazing! 

I’m not entirely sure what to say about it, aside from the fact that it was like English Winter Prom. My friends and I had pre-drinks at the residence, then decided it would be fun and exciting to take the bus into the City Center (ahem, “Centre”) to the hotel. Of course the bus was late. So late, in fact, that we decided to just take a different bus, assuming it would let us off near-ish to where we needed to be. Hahahaha. Never assume, friends. At least, not when it comes to public transport. When we got to the threshold of the city center, we decided to wait just one more stop, thinking we’d get a few blocks closer rather than walk in our heels. Instead of moving a block or two closer to the hotel, the bus turned, and drove numerous blocks in the opposite direction of the hotel. 

Our smiles and hearts sank as we realized what was happening. We hurriedly got off at the next stop, and luckily, one of my friends knew where she was going (I honestly had no idea where we were at that point). With the bus having been so behind, and now being on the other side of the city from where we needed to be, we were running quite late, so we had to start booking it a little bit so that we could make it before the meal started. 

Running through town because we took the wrong bus, whoops

We got to the hotel, breathless, and by the time we got there the arrival drinks were quite watered down from the melted ice, but we were just in time to enter the ballroom and sit down for dinner! It was a yummy though unmemorable dinner, bacon-wrapped chicken that was quite light on the bacon and some veggies (potatoes? maybe carrots? definitely brussels sprouts, but I didn’t eat those, yuck), and a massive brownie and mini minced pies for dessert. It was nice, and there was free wine. Lots of free wine. I think our table of 10 went through like 6 bottles of wine (mostly drunk by my 4 friends and I, to be honest). We were nice and warm and floaty by the end of dinner, when the live jazz music finished up and they put on the club music. 

We waited in line for quite a while to use the photo-booth, and we did lots of dancing. Honestly, I’ve always found it weird to dance to club music while in formal wear, I always have. So, towards the end of the night, I decided to request “Dancing in the Moonlight”, and the DJ was so keen on my request that he played retro disco music for the next 1.5 hours. It was the best. So much more fun to dance to than electronic mishmash of sounds or the “Top 40”. 

As I’ve mentioned in previous posts, the Brits are born partiers. There were people who got up on the tables to dance, there were people holding entire wine bottles while dancing on the dance floor. It was a wild time. At 1 AM the Ball was over and we all turned back into pumpkins (kidding), and we took a cab back home. It was a Tuesday after all. It seemed that most everyone else went to the “official afterparty” at one of the nearby clubs, which was scheduled to go until 4 AM. The stamina of the Brits for partying astounds and worries me. 

Overall, it was a lovely time, and a great way for me to fulfil my dream of going to the Yule Ball, just sans magic (unfortunately).