Friday, 12 December 2014

Kevin's night of fire (and smoke)

'Twas the last meet up before Christmas.

Almost a full house barring the Aussie Solicitor (flown to warmer climes Down Under for the festivities, most wise) and the Wine Writer (ensconced at a wine and canapés soirée for year five parents, not so wise).

After much joking over the past years about how we have evolved from a simple 'wine-and-cheese-only' into a 'full-blown-sit-down-dinner-complete-with-starter-dessert-selection-of-beverages-mostly-alcoholic-and-cheese-platter-to-boot' bookclub, our gracious host the Lovely Radiographer decided she would lead by example to set the record straight again.

We were served beans on toast.

Well, very posh beans on toast.

Actually, decidedly delicious slightly spicy beans on soda bread toast.

Inspired by a recipe from a book ("the only thing worth photocopying before I donate it back to the raffle from whence I won it last year") and embellished by her enviable culinary skills, her food was scoffed back sooner than you could say "Kevinette".

And there was a cheeseboard. And dessert. And wine.

Did I mention we also had snacks and prosecco upon arrival? It's a tough job being part of Kevin, but someone has to do it.

Anyway, before we sat down to eat, there was much catching up to do and chatting about books, of course. Caught up in all the chaotic noise and banter (we are not the silent types), there was a sudden panic stricken moment followed by a distinct smell of smoke.

Burnt toast. Nothing major, soon remedied and, as mentioned above, of absolutely zero impact on Kevin's hearty appetite. We are a very committed bunch. And a serious bookclub.

The evening passed all too quickly. We did our annual Christmas book exchange (each Kevinette wraps a book up, new or old, puts it in a bag and then we all take turns to select one - very civilised) and then it was already time to head off back home.

With the Botanical Artist and Tough Mudda in the car with me, the conversation continued.
Well, mostly me making disparaging remarks about other drivers, but the banter still flowed as did the laughter.

Never mind that along our route we saw some amazing fireworks near The Oval and a people carrier by Battersea Bridge burst into flames as we drove past it.

The Kevinettes were pretty unfazed. Our main concern was whether the fire brigade has been called (probably) and whether cars blow up when the engine catches fire (they don't apparently, thank you Google).

All part of a normal Kevin outing: no smoke without fire, you see.
That's the way we roll.


flamin' beans baby!


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