Today's proper post will be late if even existent, for yesterday B.A. and I hosted a lunch for 8 (unmarried) people from 3 PM to 11:30 PM, and this morning I am meeting a married friend and her little baby.
I imagine our guests would be startled to hear themselves described only as unmarried, but as this is a blog about Single Life, I mention it. (One was a priest; he left earliest.)
It is a great joy to me that B.A. and I managed to get ten people around the table in our attic dining-room. It was perhaps a bit of a squash, but it was tolerable and eventually I took the ladies away anyway to the soft chairs of the sitting-room.
For some reason the theme song of Sunday Lunches these days is "The Lost Chord." I know we are mostly Young (and Still Surprisingly Youthful) Fogeys, but I am rather astonished at this Dame Clara Butt (1872-1936) obsession.
And of course there was a lot of gloomy Polish tango music until one of the Englishmen complained so I put Eugenieuz Bodo on. His songs are more cheerful and... Oh dear. He died in the Gulag. What a thought for a Monday morning. Sigh...
Nobody but the priest had to go home alone (as you will recall, my least favourite part of Single life) because two are housemates and the remaining five all clambered into the same black cab. I suspect the party, over in the Historical House, continued in the black cab.
Every single everyday-therefore-suitable-for-large-parties cup and dish in the house has been used and rinsed. They are waiting for me hopefully by the sink.
Somebody left his diary in the bathtub.