I must say that had a jolly splendid weekend. Saturday itself started out a little dull but then I had my dinner date with Hope at her flat near Chelsea. I had decided to take some wine and flowers with me; my mother had always insisted that I never arrive for any kind of date empty-handed. Dorothy recommended the flowers – she even purchased them for me from a little florist she knows close the Kensington High Street. I am not one for flowers and indoor fauna, but they did look rather nice to me. I also decided to take along some wine. I chose a particularly fine 2012, Chateauneuf du Pape I had been saving for a special occasion. Not knowing what we were to eat I also took along a Chablis Grand Cry Les Preuses 2015, one of those pleasant wines that go with almost anything.
I had thought that Charlotte may have been there but she had already left for an evening out with friends so we had the flat to ourselves. I am not sure why but I had not up until that point considered that she might be as accomplished in the kitchen as she so obviously is with her art. She had prepared for us a truly amazing 3-course meal that would not have been out of place in one of the finer restaurants we have visited during our renewed acquaintance. The starter of Sea Bass on some sort of salad and avocado base was followed by a Chicken Chasseur that would have put any Michelin starred chef to shame. Apparently, it was made to her mother’s recipe and is something of an old family favourite. I can certainly see why. Desert was a very sweet but delicious Creme Brulee.
We had a jolly pleasant evening talking about anything and everything. I found myself talking quite candidly about things I have never told anyone else before. Things about my relationship with my parents and some of the less salubrious tales of my time at college. I am not sure whether it was the wine, the food or the company, but I felt more relaxed than I have done for quite some time. I left a little before midnight, shortly after Charlotte returned from her evening on the town. I might have stayed a little longer, but Charlotte was very distressed when she returned. It would seem that she had been at some kind of party for most of the evening at which she had met and then fallen out with some young chap she knows from college. I don’t think he is her boyfriend or anything like that, but I am not really very sure and in the end, decided that I ought to make myself scarce and let mother and daughter sort it out.
I had had a very nice evening indeed and was just telling Dorothy all about it over a coffee on Sunday morning. Now, Dorothy is a bit of an old romantic and as far as she was concerned Hope and I are now what she called “an item”. Whilst I am not sure that is entirely true, our evening together had certainly been both enlightening and enjoyable. We have not made any plans to meet again but I think I will call her tomorrow. I know she likes the theatre so I will get tickets for a show or something. I am sure Dorothy will be able to suggest something suitable.
This morning Dorothy informed me that she and Angela have found a suitable flat and are planning to move in over the Easter weekend. It goes without saying that I am very pleased for them both, I am sure they will be very happy.