burnfoot

Friends, especially couples, are sometimes concerned about non-mutual acquaintances whom they invite to gatherings and soirees.

Me, especially.

They mean well, as I never fail to exult that fish-out-of-the-pond-and-swimming-in-the-ocean smell, ever afraid I'll get bored stiff, blowing bubbles behind a dead coral staring at seaweed.

But truth is - I never fail to enjoy (or even amuse) myself at such occasions, a small school of fish strangers, so they should rest their thoughtful souls. When JK Rowling unveiled Luna Lovegood in The Order of the Phoenix, Sir Chesire here grinned - her antics, manners, how she immerses in the thick of things in a quirky and unobstrusive way...

ANYway.

I haven't had a barbecue in AGES and yeterday's was a really cool recap. It was nice to just laze aimelessly and sit expectantly while able hands and hosts prepare and serve your food.

And at what a pad - meandering squashy stairs that's ever so colonial leading to - voila! - a rooftop rendezvous. Cool aftershower evening air, sky starless but relenting. Radio music. Lighted block candles in ornate lanterns.

Delightful space. A tad dark but decent company (not too many thorny and showy fishies) and even more delish staples. Suffice to say, I stuffed my face (and eyes).

Suddenly, drizzle on face. A hasty retreat and off to quality time with HUGE cuddly canines. Handsomely sharp lupine features and waxy rug fur and moments of fun. Group therapy for all around.

Then Ben & Jerry's for more salve. Old Maid (so scandalously primary school leh!) for ice breaking. Heart Attack for - what else. And then, as all roads lead to Rome, all talk topics tick towards that track.

Spirit stories.

Common threads to briefly connect uncommon souls. Everyone hooked, lined and sunken.

Only to emerge at 3. Depart dented but contented.

Definitely something to chew on in years to come.