Having people over for a meal prepared my me, myself and I is one of my very favourite things to do. Thinking about the people coming over, a menu, the wine and setting are just the added extras, but taking the time to make something that I know people will enjoy just fills me up.
Today was a Spring Garden Party. Sure, it’s the middle of Winter, but DEAR GOD I was going to herald in the Spring. If it was the last thing I ever did.
Some Spring (Winter) Lamb.
Some Spring (Winter) pesto.
No blossoms in the trees? Never mind that. I’ll whack some in there myself thankyouverymuch.
Spring sports you say? Badminton. Snap! Can somebody tell me if there is some way to make your children stop growing? It’s INAPPROPRIATE.
Why not make a boring Sunday lunch something special? I had some leftover ribbon from Birthday presents…whacked that around a napkin with a wee flower. BAM! Spring MOFO’s!
The Daphne was there for the scent. Sweet Baby Cheeses my Daphne…
Kids were relegated to a picnic rug. You know what? I bloody well made that quilt. Back when I was depressed in 1999. It’s an ode to my depression!
Is that Spring or is THAT Spring? It’s SPRING! In Winter!
Kids were happy.
Neighbour knocked back Champagne like it was nobodies business. Good girl Pookie!
Spring (Winter) lamb was served!
And then it turned arctic while we ate. See? Spring! OK. Winter. It was fucking freezing.
So we lit the fire pit. And then the sun came out again. For 2.4 minutes.
Look at my vintage embroidered cloth that got a run. I know!
Other Neighbours made a Margaret Fulton Chocolate Cake that was SO good I wanted to punch it in the face.
We ate. We pretended it was Spring. We enjoyed. A triumph!