sayonara party

Upstairs in Mr T's 'Noodle Workshop'

The house was full of smoke. 

Mr T was grilling ostrich sausages on the stove. Little bright pink fingers. Downstairs, I was watching the pie in the damned microwave-oven. My hair sticking up in all directions and my clothes saturated with flour. Mrs T still apologising for pouring my chicken stock down the sink by mistake. ("Oh my God!" I'd said when she did it. And then "It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter. Oh my God! No. It doesn't matter!)

Neighbours each brought a dish. Some people were louder about what they brought the others. The jewellery-designer had brought a bottle of red-wine juice which she had made herself, her hands stained red, and she explained how the grapes grew wild. How she'd peeled their skin and pressed them down with her. Yamagiwa-San brought an enormous bottle of Shochu. Almost everyone's dish included pumpkin in one form or another. 

The failed pie and less failed apple crumble

The pie failed. (Think Bake Off 'soggy bottom' times a hundred). Still, there was plenty of other things to eat and there was plenty of booze going round so no one cared. People gossiped about the village - new cafes and izakayas, the foreign girls in the town hall, golf stories and holidays to Hawaii and Nepal. At the end, I made 'English tea' (yeah, with milk) and everyone dutifully drank it in between their cold Sakes.

Mr T's inside barbecue

There were also Ginko nuts wrapped in foil. Which had a strange green, wet, smoky flavour. When I asked what they were, everyone said 'Ginko! Ginko!' And looked at each other in confusion when they realised I didn't get it. And then the jewellery-designer - who is an international well-travelled woman in her sixties who insists on speaking English with me - patted my arm, whispering earnestly: "It is Ginko." 

Neighbours. Including the 14 year old A-chan in fur

The husbands were all eager to go home at around 10pm (to see to their dogs). The wives were all eager to stay and drink more and chat about learning languages abroad and childhood trips to the dentist. At one point, a women pointed out how much fatter she'd become (she has three young children) - 'It's true you are getting chubby around the face' was one particularly memorable quote from Mrs T. Her neighbour didn't seem to mind though, heartily agreeing.

Yamagiwa San and Mr T - you can spot Jeweller-designer's be-ringed hands moving erratically to the right

gathering

The evening ended in the calm steady domestic chat over the washing up - whose Tupperware was whose etc. Who was going to take which leftovers home. At this point, Mrs T really came alive, insisting that there was no way on earth she would allow another box of pumpkin to be left 'by accident' in her kitchen. 

The cars pulled out of the drive one by one. Nothing could be seen outside in the total night-time blackness apart from the flashing of their lights. Trundling down the lane and out of sight.

夕焼けor 'burning evening' or sunset