We rendez-voused this time chez the Wine Writer's abode in leafy Oxfordshire, a beautiful Sunday's outing to the countryside, complete with dogs, chickens, goats, sheep... and children.
Eight of them.
There were only six Kevinettes.
We were outnumbered.
This had not been the original plan.
Undeterred, we offloaded the minors on to WW's husband, the Resourceful Dentist, who nonchalantly proceeded to throw another batch of sausages under the grill to feed them all before taking them off on a very long walk with the dogs in tow.
Excellent stuff. We could proceed with what we do best: eating, drinking, and talking shop. And books, of course.
When it came to pudding there was a slight mishap, a Goldilocks moment.
Someone had got there before us!
|something is ever-so-slightly lopsided here|
Belfast Blonde thought it was merely an innovative designer cake tin at fault.
The Doctor of Psychology presumed otherwise.
Our Botanical Artist declared it "an interesting illustration" of a pear tart.
Tough Mudda declared she was too full to eat any more, thus immediately arousing suspicions.
LCM laughed - mainly because she, too, was overfed by this point and could hardly speak, let alone comment.
Our gracious host conceded that no, 'twas none of the above.
One of the dogs had decided to sample the baked wares... and the damage had been "cut off".
Cut off the cake, that is, not the dog.
Either way, it was delicious.
Three days on and we are all still fasting.
Who needs a diet when you have Kevin for company? Even the chooks were amused, as the Botanical Artist's 'Inktober' sketch illustrates.
|Brownie the hen|
Cooking, drawing, reading, eating, drinking. We're a talented bunch.
Even if we do divert somewhat from being a 'typical' book club.