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I’ve been catching up on news of how friends partied in the New Year.
My publisher James went to his childhood home to celebrate a special birthday and show his teenage daughter where he grew up …trouble is it’s in Kenya. So he’s holed up in a hotel in Nairobi while civil unrest and upheaval roars around him. He’s still waiting to get out.
We spent New Year quietly celebrating with a glass of “bubbling” – as Boris’s mother used to call it. I haven’t made any special resolutions other than those I make every year – get fit and finish the next book!
My manicurist told me she escaped the rain down the coast and went to a beautiful home built by a musician friend in the forest. The whole place was lit with fairy lights and floodlights among the trees. On arrival everyone was ushered into a huge teepee made from bamboo poles and covered in gauzy pink netting, the floor inside covered with Persian carpets and velvet cushions. Here guests all got into the party mood drinking absinthe before wandering around the grounds where strolling musicians played. There was dancing on the lawn and food laid out on tables around the pool. She said it was all very exotic – including the hostess who informed her she was a white witch and in a long red satin dress and wild hair and heavy make-up she looked the part. Including having a white rat perched on her shoulder all night.
Other friends had a hungi – a New Zealand imu or luau where they cooked food in a pit in the ground over hot rocks lined with banana leaves, although sometimes they use wild water cress. It took hours to get the rocks hot and judge the fire and they threw in a small dressed pig, chickens (plucked!) and a leg of lamb and vegetables. It was a roaring success, the meat tender and moist without falling to pieces.
My son and his Canadian girlfriend who’d both flown out for Xmas were very disappointed at spending a fortune to sit in my living room and watch TV as the rain poured down. It’s been unreal. I hope you haven’t suffered any serious damage.
Cheers.
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