Friends, Alcohol and Fish

And now, as the slate-grey roofs outside my window begin to darken with rain, I can sit here and reminisce about the weekend. On Friday evening we went to the party in the woods. The hostess who had distributed the exclusive invitations (to a select list of guests) had intended to hold the party at her house. Unfortunately, this plan was hijacked and so instead, she decided to take us all along to the home of one of her hapless neighbours. Before he could protest that he only wanted to watch the footie in peace, more and more of our hostess’s guests arrived and the poor unfortunate man had been totally invaded. Sarah even brought her dogs along for good measure.

We made an intemperate evening of it, I can tell you. We were lucky enough to be graced with the presence of a celebrity (albeit probably only ‘B’ list, but even so he is sufficiently famous for me not to be able to mention his name here – and you won’t see his photograph amongst the Facebook collection either; I have been selective). Long after the football had been forgotten (Manchester United lost, tant pis) we were still partying. The dogs were dancing on the stairs, some of the girls had undergone several costume changes, and the silence of the woods was swollen with the music of the night. I don’t even remember going home.

On Saturday, I was feeling febrile and delicate but was nevertheless relieved to be invited for one ‘quick drink’ in that most hospitable and laid-back of hostelries, Edin’s. Sarah’s two assistants – Jeremy & Raoul – were working there undercover (using assumed names, of course) and Edin was displaying his familiar charms as mein host – the best in town. Well, imagine my chagrin when I realized (too late) that the ‘one quick drink’ had unfurled into a staggering 7-hour drinkathon and that we had been joined by more and more people all crammed around our tiny table. Music from the Café de Paris played affably in the background and the languid chatter ranged from topics such as literature and art, to the efficacy of sado-masochism. I lurched home at an inappropriate hour only to find that my old friend the Stray Cat had arrived. The sleep I had been hoping for was abandoned, as you might expect.

And today, a very sad time has at last arrived. I decided that my three loyal companions – Mr Fishy, Little Fishy and Topcat - finally needed to be re-homed. They have been living a forlorn existence in their tank at my other house for too long, and so I felt that the time had come to set them free. So, transported in two enormous plastic bags of tank water, they were journeyed out to my sister’s house in the country and took up residence alongside the Koi Carp in her enormous pond. What a shock for us all. And tonight I realized that I didn’t even take a last photograph of them and so the only one I can show you is when they were much smaller, in the tank they lived in before the tank they have just left (see above). I suspect that Mr Fishy is right now lurking miserably at the bottom of the pond, sulking, and harbouring murderous thoughts. I feel so guilty.