When I got married, I was given a 35 person dinner service which had belonged to my husband’s grandmother. Not just a 35 person dinner service, but a nine-course 35 person dinner service.
“I’m sorry a couple of items have got broken over the years,” my mother-in-law, The Godmother, apologised.
A couple of pieces missing? Did she actually think I might notice?
I piled all the towers of variously sized plates in my antique dresser, then added soup tureens large enough to use as bath tubs, bowls you could live in, and oval platters big enough to serve Silvio Berlusconi roasted on a spit. The dresser bowed under the weight, and the shelf inside turned into a kind of wooden hammock.
Of course, The Godmother thinks nothing of cooking up meals for 35 people at a…
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