Decadance

In our family the birthdays are all crammed into the last third of the year - except for me as Son of Somer Solstice. We mark these days with cards and a meal together for the adults rather than presents and cake whc are still traditional among the not-yet-voters. And the meal together is optional because half the family live in a different country. But lookit: The Beloved was born in 1955; The Boy in 1975; Dau.II in 1995; and Gdau.II in 2015 and this is 2025. Sometime over the Summer we all woke up to this alignment of the quinquennium and reckoned it was worth a knees-up sometime between mid-Sept and mid-Dec.

And so it was that a 70-50-30-10-decade Tea-dance with a glass of fizzz was organized for the afternoon of the Hallowe'en Bank Holiday Monday. We rented a room in stately Mount Congreve which is a about 15mins from the centre of Waterford or Tramore. We've been to their caff a few times, but it was only this Summer that we stumped for entry Tix to wander through the desmesne. Ambrose, last of the Congreves, was mad about the gardening. Living to the age of 104 and i/c the estate for more than half of that time, he was able to see his arborial plantings reach maturity. And the complex of walled and kitchen gardens is extensive, varied and rather wonderful. Bring a book and sit on one of the benches listening to the beezzzz fumbling the flowers.

The catering was a separate ticket but the whole event was much cheaper than a wedding. They say that you should arrange wedding receptions without mentioning the word 'wedding' lest the bill doubles. 

We saved a mort o'money on one item four items on the ticket because Dau.II has been baking and decorating cakes since she was tall enough to get her nose above the kitchen table. It is definitely not about the money because Dau.II has Standards which are far above those of most people in the business who have spent 3 or 4 years in catering school. The initial plan was to make cakes of different sizes to reflect the different ages of The Principals but that was soon ditched because it is obvious that 10 y.o. eyes are bigger for cake than those of someone with a bus-pass. Whatevs: these cakes, separately or together,  give the lie to never eat anything bigger than your head. Just wield a cake-slice and take your time. 

• Hazelnut, pear and cardomon
• Lemon meringue with 'guests'
• Chocomalt and Maltesers
• Red velvet wi' cream-cheese frosting & capybara  

In real-life, of course, you'll share your cake with the couple of handfuls of true friends who have had your back for decades. Some of these pals were unavoidably tied up promoting World Peace, but most of those invited made the trek from all over the Western European Archipelago WEA. It was a like a wedding (or a funeral) insofar as we all got to meet people whom we haven't seen for twenty "my, haven't you grown!" years. And many [partners, offspring] of whom we'd never met before.

Funerals? The principal MIA was Pat the Salt, the ancestor of all the decadancers, born 1925, who died last year in the same week as this year's festivities. Errrm, I guess that makes me The Patriarch[y]. As I type, I am wearing one of Pat's sweaters - maybe that will serve as patriarchal robing?