As promised last week, I return to the midsummer party. This annual event is usually attended by around 200 guests who include friends and friends of friends. Actually, anyone is welcome and the news spreads by word of mouth.

I always wondered how so many people could be accommodated but when I saw the acres of green fields, I knew it wasn’t going to be difficult. The day dawned bright and clear. The weather forecast was consulted every hour and though there was a possibility of rain, we decided to be optimistic and go ahead with the arrangements.

Well before noon, the house guests were rounded up by the host’s son who needed help putting up the gazebos. Now I am not a hands-on kind of person. More hands off where hard labour is concerned, if you know what I mean. But somehow I found myself outside trying to fit poles into one another and then proceeding to make them stand and hold up the canopy. It was a back-breaking job, obviously something I hadn’t signed up for. But seeing all the others hard at work made me continue with my contribution. The sight of me hard at work was obviously too novel an experience for my friends who kept taking photographs of me to keep as proof for those not present and who wouldn’t be able to believe their eyes.

Once the gazebos were up, not one but two, I heaved a sigh of relief and quickly made my way indoors before I was assigned another task.

Soon the guests started streaming in, bringing food and sleeping bags. I was relieved to see the latter because that meant that I wouldn’t have to give up my precious space inside the house.

Downpour

However, a little later, the skies tore open and the rain started. Never before had it rained so much. Or so I heard. It almost made me feel guilty as if I were a jinx. But then someone recalled another such party when it rained, too, and I felt better.

There was a tonne of food and a barbecue was soon ready, with the person managing the grill standing under an umbrella and doing his stuff. In a barn nearby a group of musicians took to the stage and the folk songs concert began.

Somehow the rain didn’t seem to dampen spirits. Those who didn’t want to get wet came inside and soon the house was crowded. However, many stayed outside where the food was and, miraculously, the gazebos didn’t collapse. I attribute that to my hard work.

As the afternoon gave way to evening, the rain relented and soon it was possible to sit outside again. Tents were being pitched in the far distance and it was nice to see them strung out across the green expanse like little oases in a verdant forest.

We stayed up well into the night, chatting with friends of our hosts whom we were meeting for the first time. Our hostess was in her prime, happy to see so many people and going out often to check if there was enough food. Now she is the type who loves to cook and feed people. Exactly my idea of an ideal friend. After the masses of food had been devoured, she kept asking others if they were hungry. Now that is not a question you ask young men and women (her children’s friends) without having to pay the consequences. We friends watched in disbelief as she kept insisting that they must be hungry and that there was more food in the fridge. When they saw how determined she was to feed them, they took her up on her invitation.

Let’s just say that I was a little worried about her magnanimity as I didn’t want to face the prospect of Mrs Hubbard’s cupboard being bare while I was still there.

So, the midsummer party was everything I thought it would be and more. And I didn’t go hungry the next day.