An invitation to a neighbour's long-mooted house-warming party. It's been eighteen months in gestation, and frankly I don't have high hopes. Troop round clutching bottle of wine, and expecting a a couple of drinks, stilted conversation, a handful of Twiglets and a speedy exit. Fast forward six hours, and it's half one in the morning. Don't notice the time pass, fuelled by scandalous topics, jaw-dropping candour, high grade nibbles, and plentiful wine. Much laughter. Warm fudge cake and vanilla ice-cream. And a TWO MINUTE walk home.
The best times are those that present themselves without a fanfare. Unexpected treasure. Don't think you can cheat the odds by pretending that a planned event will probably be indifferent, hoping to engineer some magic. You can't force it. It doesn't work like that.
Hooray.
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