post party post

Guests have gone to their several homes.
Lily is sulking; why have I driven away her friends?

I am uncleaning the house.

Where did we put everything to get the place fit to party in?

Where is the coffee filter?

In the microwave is a lemon cake of great deliciousness;
(I suspect Jacqui, hers is the perfect lemon cake hand.)

In the fridge was a chocolate mousse cake. I know the
boulangerie it came from - written on the box, innit - but not
who caused it to be put there. There is another cake, a
mississippi mud pie if I'm any judge, that was in foil in the fridge.
Whoever made it is a genius.

The pretty fairy cakes got eaten for breakfast yesterday;
everyone thought Louise had made them. They saved me
a green one and it acted as a healing spell.

A large bowl of potato salad got eaten yesterday too, yummy;
the big red bowl it came in should be claimed and then I can
thank the donor and pass on the thanks of my houseguests.

There's a brown pie dish in the kitchen that I dont recognise but
will steal if not claimed.

Someone bought a large bowl of wild plums and Ive turned the
uneaten ones into an uncertain jam, if anyone wants any -

Thanks are due everywhere;

To Bob and his ability to juggle two fridges and an icebox to
ensure cold blanquette all night.
To Stan, Debs, Mark and Kate for the best live music on planet
Tilling.
To the team of sandwich makers - you know who you are -
To the dancing partygoers that made it all such fun.

Feel like an elderly princess... tempting to itemise my pressies
but a bit vulgar, perhaps, no?? Decked in new jewelry with my
feet on the coronet coconut matting, surrounded by flowers and
plants, listening to music Ive unwrapped from new cellophane
envelopes, I have to say that age need not oppress me - not with
friends like y'all. Bisouxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx