Time for Tea

A new and intriguing development, and one which I did not anticipate. The Tea dilema. We had invited some new friends over for Tea, and ofcourse my main concern was what to wear for the occassion. Handsome husband just didn't get it, I tried to explain that unlike lunch which can be informal and dinner which is a time when we are allowed the luxury of dressing up a bit, Tea was not in my normal fashion dictionary, and frankly I was stumped, however the weather was helpful, being warm and sunny, and I decided we could definitely vacate to the garden for Tea, which made my decision of attire far easier, a tea dress ofcourse, isn't that why they are called so, were they not invented to help us ladies know exactly what to wear at 4 o'clock in the afternoon? Fortunately, I have a little Chloe dress which I think can definitely be described as a Tea Dress, draping in just the right spots, tiny pearlised buttons down the front, and darling gently puffed sleeves. Completely perfect. Aaah I hear you cry, what about footwear. No problem, sorted, I found some hardy, but elegant footwear on a seaside trip, strangely for me not a known label, but the perfect shape for this sort of occasion, round toed, and slightly wider heel than I normally wear, and definitely not high.
Our guests arrived and I was delighted to see that my clothes choice had been right, and the other ladies all looked equally elegant, in little dresses and one rather divine cashmere cropped cardigan from Marilyn Moore (I spied the label as it was on the back of the chair) and all was going well, I had warmed some scones, made the tea, decanted the cream and my fabulous homemade mulberry jam into bowls, and carried it all out to the garden on my gleaming tray. Every one oohed and aaahed at the sight of the delicious Tea feast. I poured tea into cups, and we all drank. Of course, we were all very polite about being the first to tuck into the grub, so I thought, being the hostess perhaps I should take the first scone. Oh how wonderful I felt as I sliced through the warm piece of perfection, then added a large dollop of thick cream, finished off with an even larger dollop of jam. I was focusing so much on the heavenly ritual of scone spreading I was unaware of anything else, and as I bit into the masterpiece I had created I found myself under attack from a vicious wasp. I lashed out with my right hand, knocking the mulberry jam flying. I watched as jam and bowl flew through the air and landed into the lap of my guest who had just placed her gorgeous pale pink Marilyn Moore cashmere sweater exactly there. The shame, it looked like a murder scene. Next time I will stick to cake and biscuits.