I haven’t written for a couple of days, for a reason that will be come apparent. I’ll tell you about the weekend, though I’m afraid the mood will darken towards the end.
But let’s go with the cheerful, aka the Blog Party. We were going to be a fairly select bunch this time. At one time, we’d thought it would be a dozen or more, but Rose wasn’t able to be here. Vicus Scurra had also said he might come though it was unlikely. Since he didn’t opt in, I assumed he was opting out, which was a mistake – quantity didn’t matter there as much as quality, because he’s a strict vegetarian and I hadn’t catered for him.
All the same, what a delight when he turned up. We’d already sat down to lunch and he strolled in. I don’t think anyone here had met him – there’s a standing invitation to his place and, now that I’ve tasted Shila’s cooking, I’m taking him up on it, frankly (er, cup of tea is plenty darling, I’m hardly dropping any hint at all) – but we all knew him from his blog and Facebook. Also, Sir Bruin and the Small Bear, Zoe (my boyfriend is a twat) and Mike Da Hat (not the boyfriend in question), Indigo Roth and his lovely Lisa, Ro, Dora and Rufus came along. Oh, and Scout the dog. Sir B and Liz, and Ro and Dora have never missed a blog party, the darlings.
Well, I enjoyed it. I hope others did too. When Vicus arrived, my mind turned hastily to food that I could whip up in minutes (which I could have, of course) but he assured me that he didn’t want to be fed, and produced lovely food instead. Remember it as ‘underwear,’ darlings, but it’s actually Ondhwa, which is a savoury, spicy cake and very delicious and really *squeaky voice* quite spicy. And then, a sort of layered oaty number, with the central layer being a mixture of date, fig and apricot. Honestly, he can come again, and I’ll give him lunch next time into the bargain.
Zoe and Mike, with Scout, stayed the night. Scout the border collie stayed out of the way, because he’s a tactful dog and he and Eloise cat are wary of each other, but they both coped well. LT and I don’t normally watch the Eurovision Song Contest – I think I did, the year after Russell died, because it made Facebook more fun to read the comments on each act, but Tim is actually musical and he winced volubly at most of the entrants. It has to be said, none of the performers was as bad as Madonna though. Whew. Time to retire perhaps. And both he and I picked the winner as the only one with any musical merit, we reckoned (though I also had quite a soft spot for Australia for their performance). We also picked the loser, but the only surprise there was that the UK didn’t get nul points.
We drank a lot, I’m afraid. I took North Macedonia as the test and, if it could be said three times correctly, the speaker needed more wine. North Macedonia isn’t as challenging a tongue-twister as I thought it was, so the bottles lined up during the evening.
So it was, as far as the egotistical Z is concerned, a lovely day. Rose came home for a rest, but was too tired to join us. I couldn’t sleep so, when she texted me to say she’d gone back to the hospital, I was awake to remember that I hadn’t checked on her chickens. This was about 1.30 am – I nipped downstairs and she’d shut them in, so I shut them in their sleeping quarters.
She sent me another message at 8 o’clock. Her sweetheart, lovely Dave, died in the night. It wasn’t expected though his time was known to be limited. Until she’d contacted those people she needed to, and then made the sad news public, I couldn’t tell you; but I couldn’t not either, so I wrote nothing. We’re glad to have known him, He was one of the best.
There are photos but they’re Mike’s – I’ll ask if I may put any of them on here.