The curtains on the long Georgian windows have not been drawn, and light streams out onto the drive and footpath. Approaching guests can see the throng inside, chatting and laughing and drinking and chewing animatedly but silently, like actors on television when the sound is turned down, The door has been left on the latch, so there is no longer any need to ring the bell, but Ralph hovers just inside the door to welcome his guests, and directed to hang their coats in the downstairs cloakroom, where some linger to examine the wall-paper with its pattern of illustrations reproduced from La Vie Parisienne, women are invited to spread their coats on the twin beds of the guest bedroom, which has an en-suite bathroom convenient for last-minute adjustments to hair and make-up. Divested of their outdoor attire, the guests provide themselves with red or white wine, beer or soft drinks from the bar-table, tended by Mark Messenger in an electric blue shirt and black Dockers, the pass into the large drawing room, where Simon and Hope wriggle through the crush bearing plates of canapés, daring back occasionally for replenishment to the kitchen, where Carrie is warming up the ciabatta and focaccia and organic whole meal rolls in the electric oven for supper, while chatting to some women friends who are enviously inspecting the new modular kitchen units and work surfaces imported from Germany and fitted just a few months ago.
From the book ‘Thinks’, by David Lodge
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