I of course completely failed to get any pictures of myself at the party, so this shot of me and Clara comes courtesy of Ray, or rather the relative upon whom his camera was thrust while he was tripping the light fantastic. This photo was taken during the first dance. I’d decided to be careful, so as not to completely break myself into pieces and so just took part in the first set. Which was quite enough. Suzy summoned me onto the dancefloor as couples gathered and then promptly dumped me for the apparently better offer of Clara’s father. It became clear a couple of steps in that a threesome with Lauren and Helen wasn’t going to work and I was in need of a partner of my own, so Clara gallantly stepped in and we whirled around together.

From then on I mostly watched the fun from behind my camera, though I don’t pretend to have taken any masterpieces on this evening. People moving really fast in a dark room plus an aversion to using flash doesn’t really add up to crisp photos. I need to go to more parties where people sit still in brightly-lit rooms.

Or at least do the sitting still part. When not dancing we took a break in the next room and discussed important matters such as the business plan for Dave’s Awesome Cakes, Dave’s great idea, which would stand next to Helen’s funeral home. And they’d be affiliated with each other and would offer Wake Cakes.

Spot the ballroom dancer. And her extended pinky. Suzy danced all but one set that night and consequently could barely move when she and I met up the next night to plan our holiday for this year. (Booked!)

There was a good range of splashes of tartan that night: sashes, shirts, trousers, skirts and hats. Even a pair of tartan-framed glasses appeared.

This is Ray’s authentic kiltage and sockage on display. The tartan is that of Cornwall, Ray’s home county. I’m used to red stripes in things like flags symbolising the blood shed for independence or something, but the red stripe here is for the beak and legs of the national bird, the chough. How peaceful.

Carrot cake for birthday cake? Pfft, what craziness is this? In my book if it makes any contribution towards your five a day, it’s not cake.

One of the best bits of the evening was seeing those who had been reluctant to dance (Dave. Steve.) finally out on the dancefloor having a whale of a time, smiling, laughing and dosey-doe-ing. Especially when the latter move got a bit fraught when going across the diagonal.

The dances were taught and led by caller Mike, who was great fun. I approve of the idea of a caller, which means you only have to sort of remember what you’re doing. Forgetting isn’t the disaster it could be in say, the National Ballet, as he’s right there with the next instruction.

When not telling us what to do Mike would join the band on percussion. I rather naïvely hadn’t even expected live music, so turning up to the venue and finding a live band was great. Family friend and bandleader Rob played the fiddle, guitar and mandolin and Paul played Northumbrian pipes and the melodion.

One of the last dances was Lady Godiva, of which I have already posted video footage. The moment I’d turned my video camera on, the battery symbol was flashing red at me, so I’m glad it made it through to the end and got Lauren and Dave at the end of the line. And that reminds me: I should charge the battery.

This was the first and last time Steve stood to his full height during the Stripping the Willow dance. He soon learned that it was safer to bend down and not be a nuisance if he didn’t want to be decapitated when the dance got up to speed!

It was a fine evening and one that I think suited Suzy down to the ground – music, dancing and flailing about and everyone having a great time.

That’s what happened to me.

And then morning came and so did the rain. And I looked out of the window at the drizzle/pouring rain, my good hair day resting unsuspectingly on my shoulders, and I thought to myself, “Well, that damn woman’s going to want to go on the walk anyway, so you’d better get used to the idea.” And then she turned up and, yes, we went for the planned walk.

Despite having passed Knole Park maaaany times in my life, always craning to see if any deer can be seen from the road, I’ve barely been into the park and I’m pretty sure I’ve not seen the house before. To get from the car park to the park we had to walk down a steep and very muddy walkway and then finally we were out into the open parkland and the rain went to work on frizzing up our hair and working its way through my coat. But it was fun. The rain doesn’t really bother me now that I wear contact lenses and it no longer affects my ability to see. Sure it was kinda wet and a bit cold, but it all gets outweighed by the smugness one feels at going for a calorie-burning walk at the very start of the year. Hey, look at us, aren’t we virtuous and awe-inspiring?

In fact, after burning off all those calories – most of them on the return journey back up the steep and very muddy path – we had no option but to drive into town and have a long lunch at Café Rouge. Suzy had a croque madame, while I had a delightful little baguette with hummus, spring onion and roasted red pepper. Both dishes also came with a side of the best fries ever. My shunning of the usually employed ketchup is surely a sign of their magnificence.

See how this post started with a healthy walk and ended on a pile of salty fries? Yes, my thighs do too.

Suzy and I celebrated Christmas Eve with Chinese takeaway tonight. The plan was to watch Love Actually too, but it turned out, I suppose unsurprisingly, that we can fill an evening with talking quite easily, so the DVD stayed in my bag.

The Chinese food was delicious and we polished off a bottle of delightful pink fizz too. We’re both sensing the possibility of a new tradition …

We decided to “be European” and exchange gifts tonight – Suzy gave me a beautiful pin for a buttonless cardigan I bought during our recent pillage of H&M, as well as an always welcome chocolate orange.

Above she’s studying the posh chocolates I gave her and on her lap is the upholstery book that accompanied them. See that stool under the mantelpiece? Suzy reupholstered that herself and now it stands there waiting to be put to use when Suzy hosts Christmas for her family tomorrow.

A few more snapshots from the evening …

This takeaway place makes the best chicken satay ever and is a large proportion of the reason I suggested having Chinese takeaway. I’m glad to say that I was not disappointed and got thoroughly covered in bits of peanut and satay sauce, which I licked up in a most unladylike manner.

All of my bones ached today on account of spending the day walking around Bluewater shopping centre yesterday. Suzy and I didn’t do badly with our shopping. I got a few Christmas bits and pieces done and we both found some nice clothes. We were also both very smug about getting lunch before the crowds descended on the eateries and seating areas. We also made sure to stop for a rejuvenating coffee and cake break in the afternoon just before entering the temple of H&M. That plain ol’ cup of Joe up there, just waiting for a splash of milk is mine. The pile of froth and nonsense spilling onto the table is Suzy’s festive chai latte.

Though I didn’t come away with piles and piles of clothes like some people, H&M was good enough to me to provide me with a few bits of knitwear (which I didn’t particularly need, but which are pretty). I also now have a grey and black stripy top which made me feel like Mildred, the Worst Witch when I tried it on. That pleased me for some reason.

Another niceness from the day happened as I walked out of a shop and a little old lady walking by stopped to tell me what a little sweetheart I was and that I looked lovely. I thanked her and she asked me if I had a boyfriend. “No, I don’t”, I said. “Well, with a face like that you’ll get one” she said. I thanked her and she disappeared into the crowd. I don’t know who she was, but I think she should have some nice karma coming to her for that.

You mix up quite a stiff dough, which is then piped from a bag with a star nozzle into hot oil to fry. It took me two hands to squeeze the dough, so I had a sous chef to cut the lengths. This sous chef was getting kicked out of the house in the evening though, hence the need to reheat churros. By undercooking the sticks the first time, reheating them in hot oil in the evening worked well at finishing them off and making them crisp and warm. But serving them completely fresh is still absolutely the best way to do it … and Suzy has a very particular time for eating them too.

I served the warm chocolate sauce in individual tea cups, with a little pile of churros on the saucer. Then I brought in the big bowl of all the rest of the churros and my guests proclaimed their love for me.

It turns out that at some point during the evening, while I was doing something – probably with cheese – in the kitchen, the other three used my laptop to order tickets for my birthday present and then deleted their browsing history to cover their tracks. Just like we used to do at school.

For the record, they are not in the process of secret booking in the photo above. They were much stealthier than that. Anyway, the tickets are for kick-ass seats for us all at Cirque du Soleil in London in January. And here is where I attempt some kind of segue from hoping we don’t have to join in the acrobatics to talking about how the end of our evening turned into a ridiculously silly dance party to cheesy Mexican party music. I’d bought a bunch of tracks on iTunes to entertain my guests while I was in the kitchen, but didn’t remember them until the end of the meal. What the hell, we thought, let’s put them on now … and let’s have Suzy teach us to samba, fail at that and generally arse about. The next day I could barely walk, but it was a lot of fun.

Here’s the grand finale video:

There was a slightly obscure reason I had chosen the cow over the pig also on offer. I shall explain. I used not to exactly know what a moot point was. It was alright if someone else used the phrase in conversation – my eyes didn’t glaze over too obviously or anything, but I didn’t know how to use the phrase accurately myself. Until I saw this and it all clicked:

Ever since then, a moo point has been part of not just my vocabulary, but also that of everyone around me who has to put up with me labelling anything relevant a moo point. So I thought it only right to own a cow as official mascot for The Moo Point. Her name is Cathy.

Sometimes quesadillas are made by folding the circular tortilla in half, with the filling in the middle, but I did mine with two whole tortillas stacked with the filling in middle. They fit nicely on a baking sheet, so I cooked them in an oven rather than a frying pan. Plus, the more hands-free approach enabled me to get on with sprinkling more cheese on the kitchen floor.

I wanted to offer two different fillings, so gave everyone a quarter of a two quesadillas – one had chorizo and pine nuts with cheddar and feta and the other had mushroom, red onion and cheddar. I also made potato wedges with a sprinkling of ground cumin in the olive oil in which they were coated.

Here’s the judgement video:

Having already told you a little about the preparation I did for my Come Dine With Me evening, you know that I was getting ready for a Mexican evening. And that is why, when my guests turned up, I answered the door to them wearing my embroidered top from Ecuador and one of the four sombreros I’d ordered online. Each guest was then presented with their own sombrero as a party favour and was touchingly delighted with being given a stupid hat to wear.

I was able to borrow three margarita glasses from my Aunty Ann. There used to be four, but clearly there was a party that got Wild one night and now there are three. The glasses sat in my office for a while before the dinner party, along with a bunch of other clues as to the night’s theme such as a printout of the Wahaca menu, a Mexican cookery book and of course there was also the pile of avocados and limes in the fridge.

The pico de gallo and guacamole were pretty much the Pioneer Woman’s recipes, just a bunch of stuff chopped up and put in a bowl to look pretty. I served these as an accompaniment to tortilla chips while I put the starters together in the kitchen. If I’d been in the same room as the tortilla chips not a lot would have been accomplished other than perhaps self-inflicted dehydration as I finished the whole bag without sharing.

The first dish was tostadas – one with a base of shredded chicken and one with a base of refried beans. By the time I’d got to the end of just preparing the starter I’d already turned the kitchen into a bomb site, hence the floor being the only space for a photograph of the plated food. I suppose it wasn’t until I was into the main course that I started spreading cheese onto the floor too. I keep campaigning for a Kitchen Dog to take care of dropped food, but none is forthcoming. Still, Christmas is just around the corner …

Here’s the video from the guests:

What a long day. It started early in Salzburg, with my boy and a surprise cake, sparkling candle and singing and ended in England with my girls and more surprise cake, celebratory fire and singing. In between came a lot of talking in German, a flight home, my traditional failure to unpack properly, if at all, the opening of lovely presents, birthday phone calls, a much-needed shower, way too much food and a lot of talking into the night. Now I must to bed and maybe I’ll wake up tomorrow with some sort of idea of what day it is, what time it is and where I am – all questions which I have been unable to answer immediately for myself at some point over the last few days.