Friends

This past weekend I went to a friend’s birthday party and it was completely over the top and fabulous. Held at Spencer House, the former residence of one of Princess Diana’s late ancestors, it is the only remaining private palace in London. The house has been restored to its high day. Marble statues point the way and

chandeliers twinkle against the gold gilt plaster work of the ceilings and murals.
The food was so rich and scrumptuous the prospect of the chocolate fountain was rather daunting (except of course, for these few brave souls).

After dinner, there were fireworks outside on the lawn across from Buckingham Palace gardens. It’s been freezing over in London, so we watched the explosions from a heated glass enclosed balcony. In sync with the music, the fireworks were lauched low so all of the guests could see without neck ache. Even more spectacular were the towers on either side which spontaneously ignited into flame at the creshendo. The balcony soon became a dance floor as a band struck up and after an hour, lead singer of Spandau Ballet, Tony Hadley, took over and sang their hit songs, including Gold. Guests were given boxes of truffles upon departures to meet their carriages at midnight. Why can’t I have more friends with parties like this?

p.s. - oh, the oranges on the orange trees were strung on with wire.