Well, I moved into the home of a genuine Hollywood star last night. An OSCAR winner no less but I am unable to reveal his identity - top secret. He will henceforth be referred to as THE STAR. I am flat sitting for THE STAR for two months in a fab 1930s block right slap next to Regents Park. I have had to assume yet another persona as I am forced to pose as the cousin by marriage of THE STAR's wife. I am having trouble remembering both her surname and the tangled web of "who was married to who" in order to make me her cousin. Ah, the fun we have with our miniature deceptions.
Rosalind carried my hatboxes because she wanted to laugh at me pretending to be someone I am not to the concierge in order to get the keys. Once we got into the flat we jumped up and down with excitement holding hands like two schoolgirls. You could probably fit seventeen houseboats inside my new abode - it is big. The wife of THE STAR had said, "help yourself to food", so we grazed whilst standing up and congratulated ourselves on our immense good fortune. Rosalind decided that what we were picking at was in fact a Silver Screen Supper. OK, so I am not a Silver Screen star myself and neither is THE STAR (far too young to have been around in the days of black and white) but anyhow here is what we had.
2 tins sweetcorn, 1 tin peas, 1 can of Hearts of Palm (whatever they are), 1 tin of tuna, a few Flat Breads (also new to me), some "Seafood Cocktail Sauce" (never seen such a thing before in all my born days) and a bottle of champagne. You may remember that Rosalind is "The Queen of Smash" and the last meal I had at her place was beans on toast with a bit of corned beef in the middle so her resourcefulness in knocking up something edible in 5 minutes flat should not surprise any of us.
The large dining table that seats six is leading to all sorts of supper party combinations of folk in my mind and I am sooooooooooooo thrilled that Ruthie is back in her pinny and pecking on the pecans. Roll on the suppers.