Bob and Liz joined house guests Kathy and David on New Year's Eve for our classic older person's hootenanny.
Replete, having feasted on Chris's tartiflette and clafoutis, we sat round watching the telly. The tartiflette used petit livarot rather than reblochon, our cheese factor having failed to deliver. No matter, this was finest kind eating. Away with your stale madeleines, Proust; and Sartre, feeling a door-handle is no entry to self-awareness. Bring me tartiflette, bring me clafoutis, bring me love!
Kathy made shots of lovely jellied champagne and there was sufficient over to revive us at New Year Day's breakfast. Several finest kind malts were tasted by the brave who cherish not their livers.
We recuperated until party-boy Bob 'Bobbywood' Sapey led off charades. What a star performer with all the pro moves. Staggering.
He had the place rocking.
The Jools hootenanny was on, but Bob could not resist demonstrating his clapper-board. Now he just needs a camera, mike, tripod, crew and a script.
Kathy and I had worked up a pitch which did interest him mildly. Take scenes from classic Astaire and Rogers films showing the chorus line not dancing very well and cut to a parody of Strictly judges with such helpful words of encouragement - disastrous!
Our revels now are ended and on New Year's Day the little dream turns into the reality of news that a further eight health workers have had to be gunned-down in a far-off country of which I know little. Welcome to La condition humaine.
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