Took myself over to Beryls at lunchtime. Well its Easter and she always has a ” bit of a do” on Easter Sunday. I always particularly enjoy her ” Fluffy Ducks” made to her own recipe which she said she concocted whilst on tour with Lord Carrington. She said it had broken up the long evenings whilst on the Steamer back up The Yangtze River to Shanghai . She had already decided to publish her cocktails before her recipes were forgotten. I’ll drink to that.. hic hic…
I hadn’t been socialising very much after the slightly interesting episode with The Lycra Lady ( her of Guardian writing ilk and cycling shorts fame ) at my Dinner Party when she went outside for a breath of air and got frightened by the Alpacas. Apparently she thought it was a camel ( well they are related, sort of) and between sips of Chardonnay and rather expensive Port she imagined she had been transported ( on a bloody magic carpet, I guess) to Cairo or Khartoum. Where ever she thought she was, I advised her rather sternly that night to take more water with it. If nothing else she was startling the chickens who, given any excuse or upset, wouldn’t lay for a week or more!
So fresh out of sympathy with drinkers I took myself over to Beryl’s to see who was about. As I said, the Alpaca incident took the shine off the evening and I felt slightly miffed. Beryl’s invitees are always a slightly more rakish lot. And are great observational subjects. Its a cross between Happy Valley and The Dominatrix’s Cave.
I went via The Luvvies as I thought I had to thank them for helping me with the Onion Soup. The face masks had vanished, so obviously all worries about cross contamination had passed. Either that or they were rehearing for parts in The Arabian Nights. Mrs Luvvie had obviously got well ” into character” as she had tonged her usual frizzy locks into a breadth of its life and was sporting a rather poker straight ” look alike” Cleopatra hairstyle complete with block fringe and a generous dollop of kohl around the eyes. I have to say she has never been the same since returning from her All Inclusive in Hurghada and I did wonder if the wearing of the masks was a bit of an oblique way of getting ready for Passionate Nights in the Kasbah. Well you never know, face masks are almost the same as an Egyptian veil and I had noticed her shimmying her hips whilst moving between the Biscuit Aisle and the Deli Counter.
For those of you who are minded to ask about my rather fetching Gina Mules who were last heard of slightly submerged in the concrete of Lovely Man’s shed, I can give an update. Having had my weight in them and wet concrete underneath them, they sank almost without a trace. In fact their complete submergence stopped short because of the Swansdown Pom Poms. I thought it easier to leave them there to dry off and then scratch the dry concrete off the next day. It wasn’t one of my better ideas as the swansdown Pom Poms are now rock hard and certainly don’t flutter in the breeze as they use to and my remainder of the velvet is covered in cement dust.
And if anyone would dare to suggest wearing ” Crocs” as a more serviceable mode of slipper….. you need to find the nearest exit. And fast..