Flat Warming

Last night I went to Kate and Sue’s flat-warming party at their new flat which, in a dramatic break with tradition, started at half past five. The flat itself is pretty big and was full of children when I got there. So I immediately presented the hosts with what has become my stock gift for these types of situation- a potato with ‘Fergus’ written on it. They seemed pleased to receive such an exclusive artefact and put it on top of the fridge. Although Martin Boyce did look slightly puzzled by the fancy tuber- probably on account of his youngest son being called Fergus. (There is no connection. I chose the word because it sounds good and means ‘man of vigour’. And it also looks good. Even on a potato).

There was a particularly lavish array of nibbles laid on. Jelly beans, truffles, coconut mushrooms and the like. And although I started out nibbling them, I ended up guzzling them. The only thing I didn’t guzzle was beer. (Due in no small part to a lingering hangover). Instead I entertained myself by trying to trick Laurie into eating a cat nut I found in my back pocket. My success rate in such endeavours tends to tail off dramatically after the first incidence, so Laurie handled the cat food with suspicion. Until Sue became an unwitting accomplice by insisting that there was no way her nibbles could harbour pet treats. So he ate it. And although he might not have appreciated the rabbitty flavour it will have provided him with the complete and balanced nutrition that he needs to develop strong teeth and bones and maintain a healthy and active lifestyle.

Other entertainment initiated by other people at their own expense included Andrew Kerr arriving and immediately demonstrating his neck based hula-hoop routine, with the introduction ‘I look like a turkey’ and the closing gambit ‘I thought everyone could do that’; and Steve Sutcliffe giving a live action reconstruction of Charlie Dimmock’s recently televised gymnastics routine. It looked like a spontaneous and ill-conceived forward roll at first but when Steve said ‘I was being Charlie Dimmock’ it all made sense. For the uninitiated, it should be made clear that Charlie Dimmock is not a trained gymnast (she’s a gardener). And neither is Steve.