Fluffy Ducks and Magic Carpets

Took myself over to Beryls at lunchtime. Well its Easter and she always has a " bit of a do" on Easter Sunday. I always particularly enjoy her " Fluffy Ducks" made to her own recipe which she said she concocted whilst on tour with Lord Carrington. She said it had broken up the long evenings whilst on the Steamer back up The Yangtze River to Shanghai . She had already decided to publish her cocktails before her recipes were forgotten. I'll drink to that.. hic hic...

I hadn't been socialising very much after the slightly interesting episode with The Lycra Lady ( her of Guardian writing ilk and cycling shorts fame ) at my Dinner Party when she went outside for a breath of air and got frightened by the Alpacas. Apparently she thought it was a camel ( well they are related, sort of) and between sips of Chardonnay and rather expensive Port she imagined she had been transported ( on a bloody magic carpet, I guess) to Cairo or Khartoum. Where ever she thought she was, I advised her rather sternly that night to take more water with it. If nothing else she was startling the chickens who, given any excuse or upset, wouldn't lay for a week or more!

So fresh out of sympathy with drinkers I took myself over to Beryl's to see who was about. As I said, the Alpaca incident took the shine off the evening and I felt slightly miffed. Beryl's invitees are always a slightly more rakish lot. And are great observational subjects. Its a cross between Happy Valley and The Dominatrix's Cave.

I went via The Luvvies as I thought I had to thank them for helping me with the Onion Soup. The face masks had vanished, so obviously all worries about cross contamination had passed. Either that or they were rehearing for parts in The Arabian Nights. Mrs Luvvie had obviously got well " into character" as she had tonged her usual frizzy locks into a breadth of its life and was sporting a rather poker straight " look alike" Cleopatra hairstyle complete with block fringe and a generous dollop of kohl around the eyes. I have to say she has never been the same since returning from her All Inclusive in Hurghada and I did wonder if the wearing of the masks was a bit of an oblique way of getting ready for Passionate Nights in the Kasbah. Well you never know, face masks are almost the same as an Egyptian veil and I had noticed her shimmying her hips whilst moving between the Biscuit Aisle and the Deli Counter.

For those of you who are minded to ask about my rather fetching Gina Mules who were last heard of slightly submerged in the concrete of Lovely Man's shed, I can give an update. Having had my weight in them and wet concrete underneath them, they sank almost without a trace. In fact their complete submergence stopped short because of the Swansdown Pom Poms. I thought it easier to leave them there to dry off and then scratch the dry concrete off the next day. It wasn't one of my better ideas as the swansdown Pom Poms are now rock hard and certainly don't flutter in the breeze as they use to and my remainder of the velvet is covered in cement dust.

And if anyone would dare to suggest wearing " Crocs" as a more serviceable mode of slipper..... you need to find the nearest exit. And fast..

Went down to see The Luvvies today.  I had made a faux pas with the Onion Soup and I knew they would be able to bail me out. I had a few Peeps coming over for supper that night and needed a Veggie Option.!

Was surprised to see them both in face masks and wondered if I had missed anything?   They didn't say anything out of the ordinary when I went in ( well they don't normally ! Ordinary is, as Ordinary does) and I didn't venture to ask, but I have to say it was all rather odd asking someone if they had 4 large onions when they have a surgical mask over a large proportion of their face.

Interestingly, Mrs Luvvie had pulled her hair back for a change so I guess that added to the hygiene element because patently they were both dressed to either do open heart surgery on a cauliflower or it was a rather elaborate part of dressing up for games after " Lights Out".  Either way I thought it better not to venture

I digress.....

The dinner party tonight was going to be interesting.  Not only had I invited the Serial Shagger again ( who was without his Squeeze) but also the lady from the Guardian who last time fell asleep mid sentence due to the fact that she had imbibed rather too much vino on an empty stomach.   The Agent provocateur that night was going to be Michael who puts himself down as an Academic but is still doing his doctorate about thirty years after having started it.  Adding an element of  intrigue I guess when he first meets people  " Oh I am in the middle of my doctorate " and he waves his hand above his head in an ethereal fashion ......

It was going to be an evening of sparks and definitely flames because the other guests are all pseudo intellectuals or Bi-Polars which meant the evening would either be a ball of fun or a bucket of cold water.  Always interesting to see which way it will pan out

Sally, our new friend who has been invited to the Inner Circle was coming with Clive.  She took a shine to him at the Literary Lunch last week, after finding out that he and I were NOT married,  and consequently hit on him in a rather unseemly manner.  Clive however was tossed being feeling cornered and flattered, but it matter not a jot as Clive isn't interested in ladies however beguiling they feel they are and so I was happy to sit back and watch.  Even when she realised she wasn't going to make any breakthrough she kept on going and probably is putting this down to her Buddhist Teachings ( be patient, Crouching Tiger).  As in " have faith and you will get what you want"... only Clive may NOT be what she wants.... Let's see....

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Meanwhile my Lovely Man was out mixing concrete with his " rented by the hour" Cement Mixer for his new Nest at the end of the garden.  I did warn him that although his new shed was rather large and yes, a substantial base was required, one that necessitated me having a hand rail to pull myself up on was rather " over egging it".  However, being a man who knows his own mind and having an element of stubbornness in him from time to time, he listened not and whilst I was again chopping up onions for said concoction that  evening he was mixing with a maniacal desire and the base was already 2 foot above the grass. The way he was going we were going to need a rope ladder to ascend it.. but maybe that was his point .  Definitely a case of " repel all boarders " or " if you aren't on the list, you re not coming in!"

Fast Forward to Tiffin Time....A few hours later he was still mixing and laying.  The light was fading.  I stumbled over the garden and the debris.  I didn't know where I was standing when I gently reminded him of the time .  Then it happened.  The squelch.  The suction.  The silence.  A pair of rather enchanting Gina Mules were now encased in wet and grainy concrete.   We looked at each other......

 As they say in polite circles " its not going very well, is it?"

Until next time......