Finally, six months later than anticipated, at the end of June 2021 we were permitted to host our annual Christmas party (2020). But first, I had to remove AD from the kitchen. JS, who knew exactly who he was and couldn’t quite believe that he had been invited into my flat (he hadn’t), observed as I gently expressed my desire that he leave – immediately.
Meanwhile TPR was debating whether or not to put up the Christmas decorations. The decision was ‘no’ to the tree, but ‘yes’ to fairy lights and tinsel (including that beside the television accidentally left over from Christmas 2020 ‘proper’). TPR’s other priority was to set to work on making pastry for our production line of mince and crecy pies, and mini quiches.
We were just about to ask our morning guests (including DM and my mother) to leave when a gang of six youngsters in a British racing green Mini came trundled down our steps. My instant fear was that they were about to burgle us. In fact, they were archeologists interested in the secrets hidden within the cellar walls of our basement flat.