Went to an SE1 dinner party last night. The flat was lovely, on the sixth floor with fantastic views all over London. As usual, I was the only oldie, with two young couples and another young singleton. Lovely starter, a crisp spicy squid salad with a Thai influence, followed by a main of salmon wrapped in prosciutto accompanied by small roast potatoes and onions, with baby sweetcorn, carrots and peas. The pudding was a very good orange cake soaked in Grand Marnier, with orange and pink grapefruit. The wines were excellent and I imbibed far too much as usual, and finished with coffee and chocolates. I lurched off into the night feeling distinctly unsteady. I arrived home to find Julian had fed Kooky, who had apparently been wandering around the flat and managed to knock my kitchen utensil container into the sink - in a bid for freedom, I assume, examining the kitchen window over the sink, which fortunately was firmly locked.
Visiting all these smart apartments, I am somewhat concerned about my grotty old flat and the complete lack of space for my dinner party next Saturday. I am also rather concerned about Kooky's reaction. I shall have to shut him in the studio for the duration.