Dinner Party, Darlings!

On Friday night all us English students from Wolfson were invited to our Director of Studies' house for dinner. We always knew that he and his wife were rather eccentric but were somehow still not expecting to be dragged away from our pre-dinner drinks to break into a neighbour's property to investigate the colour of their chickens' eggs. The dinner conversations were hysterical. I remember at one stage looking through alcohol-befuddled eyes around the table, laughing my arse off and thinking there was nowhere else I would rather have been at that moment. It's impossible to describe the whole evening in great detail, but it was one of the most Cambridge evenings I've experienced and is probably best described through a series of quotations I had to scribble down as soon as I got home:

"I don't think we necessarily need to investigate the chickens, darling" (Peter to his wife as she was insisting we all get up and march across a field to the neighbour's farm)

"Um, I've never more regretted starting a topic of conversation" (Boyd on the way to the aforementioned farm)

"Don't touch the fence, dears: I tested it last week and it IS electric" (Mrs Raby's words of wisdom)

"What sauce do you think we should cook Sarah in?" (James to Mrs Raby: her immediate response: "cassis"!)

"What would you count as excessive drug use? It is okay to go to the end of the garden and smoke a joint every night at 6 o'clock?" (the Mrs again!)

"This is great! I'm watching one of the greatest minds of my generation descend into madness" (Dev re Boyd)

"That man had such small feet - and such shiny shoes. Even when I see him all these years later, I can't stop looking at them and thinking about them. Such small feet!" (Mrs Raby)

"Germaine Greer managed to really piss me off 5 years ago" (Trevor)
"And, until then, you were a committed feminist, were you Trevor?" (James)

And so it continued. I do hope we get invited back!