A cynical churl writes:
Swell? Huh. No sex, illicit or otherwise; hardly any flirtation; no falling over; only one small red wine spillage on the carpet; no appallingly tasteless music, not even background sort; no dancing; no drunken insults... All you did was eat brilliant food, drink about a bottle of wine each (on average), and sit around having funny, stimulating conversations about everything from speed bumps in the Avenue to the lesser-known works of Terence Rattigan; and it was all over by 11.30 , a mere six hours' worth ... Call that a swell party?
A gratified host replies:
Yes.
Well, I think you've got brilliant neighbours. And it's lonely here tonight.
ReplyDeleteI think my husband would like you—but he is no friend to blogs. He adores cabbage and right now is going through a Terence Rattigan phase. Or rather a Browning Version phase with special emphasis on the Greek lines from the Agamemnon on the chalkboard. (Do you consider the BV a lesser known work. If not, why not?) Best wishes to Z.
ReplyDeleteHi Beryl, thanks for dropping by. I saw the BV years ago, and love his work (which is being rightly reappraised), but it was a passing snippet of a wide-ranging, possibly slightly inebriated conversation, prompted by an astute comment by Z on John Osborne, I seem to remember.
ReplyDeleteShe reads this, so your best wishes are hereby passed on.
Oh, and where did the cabbage come in, exactly??
See your post of Jan 6. You scared me—I thought I read "red wine spillage' as"red cabbage", but no, you did write about cabbage. I am waiting for the shoes and ships and sealing wax.
ReplyDeleteAh, that explains everything. Well, not quantum string theory, obvs, but...
ReplyDeletebtw, when I was a child I thought sealing wax was spelt ceiling wax. I'm not sure what this explains.