Mulling it over

Last year, our first mulled wine party was a little later than expected and fell foul of a couple of works' socials. This year, we were determined to be first, not only with the decorations but with the partying. Maybe it's a little early to be celebrating Christmas, but at least it is December.

Last night the wine was mulled in perfect time, the nibbles distributed, the conservatory flung wide and heated, the candles lit and the music playing (streaming via the XBox from my PC, of course) when the first guest came knocking at a polite ten past eight. It was our new neighbour, who had moved in only a few weeks ago with her daughter and grandson. She was followed by the rest of the street during the next couple of hours, with only one house not represented and two couples only half present. A pretty good showing and easily comparable with last year.

But this year, of course, we knew everyone a lot better, so the conversation was even more relaxed, the pace laid back and the evening another sterling success. Don't take my word for it, we were told as much by each departing guest.

The longer we're here, the more I love it. One thing though. I mustn't stay on mulled wine the whole evening next time.