One day, if you're lucky, there'll be an occasion, possibly a Sunday lunch, maybe during one of the big festivals of the year, maybe just one of those unheralded days that crop up at the beginning or the end of summer, when you'll find yourself hosting Jane Austen's definition of a good party. She said that was too many people in too small a room.
It won't be perfect.
Somebody will be late. Something will burn. A child will refuse to eat something. There won't be enough chairs to accommodate boyfriends, girlfriends and whoever else turns up. At some stage it will strike you that everybody's talking over everyone else and you've drunk too much red wine. Somebody will turn off your precious playlist of Sunday lunch music.
At that precise point, if you'll take my advice, you'll stop, breathe, listen and savour the moment. Because that moment, right there, is what it's all about. It never gets any better than that.
,,,and in my experience, when you wake up in the morning, no matter how unpleasant the mess and the hangover, there's a kind of glow that tells you something great has happened. I find the slow process of clearing up, grazing on leftovers, discovering strange gifts or dishes you didn't notice the night before, totting up bottles you've ended up with vs how many you started with, almost as enjoyable as the event itself.
ReplyDeletelovely. vm
ReplyDelete"Three glasses".
ReplyDeleteCry-baby flyweight.
That experience best describes Boxing Night at our house! It's not reserved for the summer
ReplyDelete