My bus-stop fairy (L) told me that B was singing anim zemirot (sabbath song, traditionally sung by youngish boys) for the first time, so I got up early and dragged myself to shul, where most people were talking about the rally. Great lunch at L and S's, with a whole plethora of fun and funny folk. Sample conversational soundbite from L (when discussing the costumes for our play, which had come from a charity in South London associated with a Mental Health Trust): "I guess they get a lot of people on the way in who think they're Napolean, and they get to keep the kit because they're cured, so they can rent it out to people like us." The wonder of the trained mind.
Tonight I'm having a dinner party (I'm feeling very sociable recently), and I am trying to make butterscotch fondue, but I couldn't get the sauce to thicken, only to have globules of cornfourness, and then I discovered that my fondue set (I think a gift from either my bro or sis when they got married, as you get lots of fondue sets as wedding presents) has a burner, not a little candle, and I have no idea what to put in the burner. White spirit? The traumas of the chattering classes.
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