http://www.swper.co.uk/I’ve never been particularly partial to tablecloths. I freely admit to owning a couple which are occasionally dragged out at Christmas or other ‘special’ occasions where I’m expecting guests of a certain generation. But generally I can’t muster up a whole lot of excitement for a bit of hemmed cotton. Oh how things have changed.
Two days ago I became the proud owner of a vintage french linen tablecloth. And for the record this is no ordinary cloth – oh no – it’s a monster of a cloth, over 2.5 meters of glorious monogrammed antique linen. It is my baby and I am sooo proud. It came unlaundered and I have spent 24 hours lovingly restoring it to its former glory. My grandmother would have been so proud to have seen me doubled over a bath with a tub of ‘Oxy Action’ a kettle and a wooden spoon.
As you can see my thinking appears to have become slightly warped in the run up to the first secret supper, seemingly bizarre things are now, in my mind, critical to the dining experience ;candles ( at least enough to light St Pauls), square plates for canapes (what’s wrong with round??) and don’t start me on flowers (are they too fragrant?!*)
So lest you should think that this is not about the food. Let me assure you it is. I ‘trialled’ the menu on some unsuspecting guests this week and it was (thankfully) well received. Let’s just hope it goes as smoothly on Saturday night. In the interim I have to replenish the cheese stocks, as the 10yo snacked his way through an entire Perl Wen and no-one in the house is taking responsibility for the missing Caerffili.
Feeling very excited and relatively calm but I suspect that’s going to change….
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