I'm thinking of giving up entertaining. I no longer get the hit. Today, 16 for lunch. Eleven adults at the table. Five children in the kitchen. One of my oldest friends provided chocolate fondue after the cheese. The meal went on and on. We played silly party games. In between, the kids went to the park, returned, joined us for a round of guessing and then played Hide and Seek. The wine flowed so well we had to sent a foraging party to Thresher. Though that was mainly because I keep so little white in stock. It was a fantastic day. And yet, having just finished clearing up, I still haven't had that adrenaline moment. The hit. Indeed, now I think about it, it's happening less and less. On Friday a fabulous lunch in Camberwell. In the spring sunshine we ate al fresco with an eccentric mix of people from 8 to 80. There were a lot of stories around the table. One guest, a young man, had been abandoned as a baby. And rescued by Mother Theresa. It was love at first sight for my girls. Two other children there had recently lost their mother. To cancer. They sat, open, smiling, friendly. A solid team led by a gentle father. The politically active octogenarian in the group was of a dying generation. Those who escaped Nazi Germany. Having enjoyed the fastest seder (Passover meal) in history, earlier in the week, he was a reminder of how precious life is. There were even two single adult men of a certain age. The hostess gets ten out of ten for that one;-) And yet, no hit there either... Is this, I wonder, a sign of middle age?