The Anglicans do know how to feed guests.
“7pm for supper ok?”
“We are in the formal dining room.”
Who eats in a room with carpet? I mean, when I am in front of the TV, but that doesn’t count.
A large table set with starters of smoked salmon with salad.
“The processes must be followed, still or sparkling? And now the more difficult question, alcoholic or non-alcoholic? And then red or white?” “Ohh, I’m fine with just water, thanks.” “Oh dear, if we skip this step we’ll get to the food far too quickly.”
I was thinking the salmon and salad would be a perfectly fine supper, but there were far too many pieces of cutlery on the table, and if we were to be working our way in there would certainly be more.
Next was slow cooked chicken and baked potatoes.
Multiple hours later …
A proper supper would be incomplete without “pudding” (which of course here means desert, and not just pudding).
Lemon cheese cake.
“Coffees?”
At this hour?
Then it was time for the stinky cheese course, which was stinky, and cheesy.
