Natales: Buon
And so we threw our
Jenny’s-birthday-cum-winterval-cum-we-haven’t-had-a-party-in-far-too-long
Party, collectively known as the Buon Natale.
Prosecco was chilled, fancy meats were bought from
the ridiculously middle-class deli in Bath, the
ConGen 8000* was cranked up, and a fine old time was
had by all. We hope. The Copes drove through from
Historic Cardiff™ – cursing this country’s
odd little badly-lit country lanes – and
the redoubtable Mr Thomas brought his lovely lady
along from, um, a few minutes down the road.
As is now traditional at parties, Mrs Phin and I were loud and boorish, though in an ‘entertaining’ fashion. The food was nom-worthy, the music swingin’, and, most importantly of all, the guests utterly charming.
I did manage to make myself ill at the end of the night – tiredness? my cold? too much alcohol? that one little cheroot? – and I strained my poor sore throat so much that I really can’t talk today and have to communicate with Jenny through sign language and email, but it was still much fun. Thanks, Copes and Thomas-Passmores!
* The ConGen 8000 was a box wrapped in tin foil, featuring a door and a fake handle, that was filled with facts, ‘would you rathers’ and questions, authored by my mildly psychotic wife.
As is now traditional at parties, Mrs Phin and I were loud and boorish, though in an ‘entertaining’ fashion. The food was nom-worthy, the music swingin’, and, most importantly of all, the guests utterly charming.
I did manage to make myself ill at the end of the night – tiredness? my cold? too much alcohol? that one little cheroot? – and I strained my poor sore throat so much that I really can’t talk today and have to communicate with Jenny through sign language and email, but it was still much fun. Thanks, Copes and Thomas-Passmores!
* The ConGen 8000 was a box wrapped in tin foil, featuring a door and a fake handle, that was filled with facts, ‘would you rathers’ and questions, authored by my mildly psychotic wife.
