The Royal Tea Party
What a fabulous weekend I've had. I confess that I'd had my doubts about the afternoon tea - it seemed to have escalated from family get-together to full blown party (probably complete with mad hatters, dormice etc), and the prospect had seemed somewhat daunting.
I suppose you could tell how things were going to go when within minutes of arrival a recorder trio had formed from the assembled guests and treated us to a quick bagatelle (well, don't forget: the houses of primary school teachers are frequently equipped with such items as recorders and "let's play together"-type music. We're lucky they didn't get down to potato printing or something). And it just got better from there. We played lots of chamber music, Charlotte sang, Olivia played the oboe and scrummaged (although not at the same time) and people sat and chatted in the garden, drank Pimms, and ate cucumber sandwiches. Also, my sister had compiled a couple of CDs of music that charted in 1976 (I know - I was very worried too. But she eschewed glam rock in favour of funk, for which we were all most grateful). And then later on, my parents played the video of me aged 10 appearing on Take Two (the children's TV programme fronted by a very youthful Philip Schofield). This was so utterly cringeworthy that I was forced to quit the room to avoid witnessing the time-trapped mini-me in a pointy collared shirt and oversize school tie talking in a very small voice about various children's telly progs.
[In case you're interested, my views were as follows:
There were about 5 different kinds of cake, including my sister's famed Chocolate Nemesis cake (30 candles: so many that even my well-trained lungs couldn't puff them out in one go) that requires 57 eggs, four metric tonnes of butter, the entire EU chocolate mountain and some other exciting and unhealthy things, and has to be cooked in a warm bath for a period of time so precise that you have to contact the atomic clock three days in advance.
I also put together the Dime Bar Cheesecake (TM), which I now discover has to be renamed the Daim Bar Cheesecake (TM) since I could only obtain dodgy German imported Dime bars. For the payment of one Dime bar, I managed to enlist the assistance of my very big little brother, who looks increasingly like an old testament prophet (tall, angular, crazily curly hair and a beard) as time goes by. Turns out he's a dab hand at biscuit and Dime bar crushing. Perhaps he has a lot of internalised anger? Or maybe it's just those oversized hands, coupled with youthful (bah!) enthusiasm.
In fact, talking of Bo, it occurs to me that there was a truly remarkable quantity of facial hair on display at the gathering, given the age and demographic grouping of the gentlemen present. This notable point has only just occurred to me, so I cannot offer at this stage any possible explanation or outcome. I will cogitate upon it some more.
Good night all.
I suppose you could tell how things were going to go when within minutes of arrival a recorder trio had formed from the assembled guests and treated us to a quick bagatelle (well, don't forget: the houses of primary school teachers are frequently equipped with such items as recorders and "let's play together"-type music. We're lucky they didn't get down to potato printing or something). And it just got better from there. We played lots of chamber music, Charlotte sang, Olivia played the oboe and scrummaged (although not at the same time) and people sat and chatted in the garden, drank Pimms, and ate cucumber sandwiches. Also, my sister had compiled a couple of CDs of music that charted in 1976 (I know - I was very worried too. But she eschewed glam rock in favour of funk, for which we were all most grateful). And then later on, my parents played the video of me aged 10 appearing on Take Two (the children's TV programme fronted by a very youthful Philip Schofield). This was so utterly cringeworthy that I was forced to quit the room to avoid witnessing the time-trapped mini-me in a pointy collared shirt and oversize school tie talking in a very small voice about various children's telly progs.
[In case you're interested, my views were as follows:
- The Krankees - it's quite silly, as the kitchen they're in is clearly too small for the size of the restaurant they are purporting to run
- Animal is my favourite Muppet
- The nature programme on polar bears was (I quote myself exactly here) "on the whole, interesting"
There were about 5 different kinds of cake, including my sister's famed Chocolate Nemesis cake (30 candles: so many that even my well-trained lungs couldn't puff them out in one go) that requires 57 eggs, four metric tonnes of butter, the entire EU chocolate mountain and some other exciting and unhealthy things, and has to be cooked in a warm bath for a period of time so precise that you have to contact the atomic clock three days in advance.
I also put together the Dime Bar Cheesecake (TM), which I now discover has to be renamed the Daim Bar Cheesecake (TM) since I could only obtain dodgy German imported Dime bars. For the payment of one Dime bar, I managed to enlist the assistance of my very big little brother, who looks increasingly like an old testament prophet (tall, angular, crazily curly hair and a beard) as time goes by. Turns out he's a dab hand at biscuit and Dime bar crushing. Perhaps he has a lot of internalised anger? Or maybe it's just those oversized hands, coupled with youthful (bah!) enthusiasm.
In fact, talking of Bo, it occurs to me that there was a truly remarkable quantity of facial hair on display at the gathering, given the age and demographic grouping of the gentlemen present. This notable point has only just occurred to me, so I cannot offer at this stage any possible explanation or outcome. I will cogitate upon it some more.
Good night all.
posted by OboeJane at 10:01 pm
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