Arrived back in Wellington last night in time for a day of horizontal rain. Had a work barbecue this evening which I was tempted to cry off from considering the weather and my sociopathic tendencies but I gritted my teeth and went anyway, because it was the right thing to do. It was great.
Arrived with a bottle of white wine, far less useful than a plate of food but far more typical for me, even if I hadn’t spent the day in bed reading Northanger Abbey instead of being more usefully employed. Suitably lubricated, I spent the evening mingling, chatting to nurses, surgeons, and spouses, never tripped over or spilled food on myself, so am feeling very pleased and proud. Didn’t even find any food on my teeth when I got home so you’d really have to say an unqualified personal success. I haven’t seen any photos yet, mind, so perhaps I shouldn’t speak too soon.
My only other comment on the evening is that I would have thought a surgeon would have made a much better job of slicing the ham. A little concerning.