So. Dinner last night. Eighteen people, lots of alcohol, and nobody declaring suddenly 'Oh, I'm mango intolerant!' which is just as well, because I had managed to organise a dinner in which everything on the menu had mango in it. It was, as ever, an odd mix of people including a lot of people who didn't know each other well, people's partners, people's ex-partners, that sort of thing. A mixed bag.
Woke up this morning to find a message on my voicemail from a call at 1.30 the previous night - John calling to say that he was thinking about us. He seemed to be at St Petersburg International Airport, which is probably a shed.