purplerabbits

The feast went well! We fed 120 people until they were fll and the food was nice and we didn't make anyone ill and the pig looked very impressive and people danced and I drummed and overall we generally ruled!

And I've been dreaming about the cooking for two nights since.

On the 20th I met with Davey my lovely van driver and collected tables and chairs from two places and left them in the van and got taken to Tesco by zotz who helped me shop for starter ingredients and collect the hire glasses and left those in his car and packed a suitcase of things for the Hall and did relaxation exercises. I even found time to finish dying my hair, which was a matter of great importance, as you can imagine.

I then got about seven hours sleep and woke at 8am, as I have been recently, whether I like it or not. Not a huge amount, but enough to keep me vaguely sane.

On the 21st I:

• Ate bacon and eggs. Breathed.
  
• Got to the hall for 10.30 am in a taxi with my drum and suitcase and clothes to change into. Morag was already there baking fudge cake, so I was glad I'd had breakfast. Mmm.
  
• Moved the giant bunny and found the greenroom and explored and poked in cupboards to see what equipment we had until Jon arrived and started counting plates and bowls and stuff for me Graeme got there with glasses and shopping and Davey with tables and Fluffy arrived to help and fret about greenery.
  
• Sent Fluffy in a cab to fetch the greenery which forces of nature beyond our control[1] had denied us the previous day.
  
• My first kitchen volunteer arrived, to announce that my second volunteer was unwell and couldn't come. This was a blow as my third volunteer had already dropped out. Set the one guy I had to chopping veg for the mushroom pate and started the long process of crumbing a loaf and a half of bread. There was almost certainly a better way I could have done this.
  
• Abby arrived with a metric fuckload of vegetables for the stew. I will speak more of the stew later, but possibly not without shuddering.
  
• Fluffy came back with more greenery than a lot and started the decor with Kat after discovering that sie too was a couple of volunteers down. Left some messages with the unstoppable force of nature about maybe waking up and taking the apple sauce out of the freezer before it was too late.
  
• After which the kitchen was chaotic with roasting veg in installments, cooking my mushroom mixture for the pate (which came out lovely) and slowly every non-essential person being driven out of the way by the sheer magnitude of the stew.
  
• The apple sauce arrived in two solid icy blocks and I managed to squeeze one volunteer into the kitchen to defrost it in the small microwave. This took a long time. And buckets of hot water. And hammers.
  
• Opened many tins of beans and made spice bean pate. Also mushroom pate. Did I mention that I dreamt about breadcrumbs two days after?
  
• The stew continued to grow. I think it was at about this point that Abby decided not to use any of the sack of leeks or the ten litres of passata she'd bought. I am sure that we had agreed that 45 litre is easily enough to feed 100 people so the fact that she was buying ten litres of one ingredient might have rung some alarm bells had Abby been able to do arithmetic. Ah well.
  
• There were also a lot of butternut squash, and parsnips, and sweet potatoes, and onions, and beans, and STUFF in that stew. It grew to fill two giant soup kitchen pots before she realised than the first pot had been bigger than 45 litres...
  
• I manage to free up a tiny ring on the corner of the stove long enough to make non-alcoholic mulled apple punch. It smells great. And tastes pretty good.
  
• Still defrosting apple sauce. How long does it take a 4 litre block to melt for fecksake. Also sticking cloves in oranges hurts
  
• By now wenches are here and tables are beng put out. And moved. And put out while we work out how to fit 120 people in the hall and have space for the PA and the drummers and be able to get to the loos and the fire exit. A couple fo the missing volunteers appear mysteriously just in time to take up their reduced place and start sorting out how to serve stuff on the selection of crockery we have. I make them stick cloves in oranges.
  
• Morag returns with desert and ices the cakes. Num.
  
• I force myself to find time to get changed and put makeup on. Oh, and sneakily phone to see if bread and pig are on time. They are - it's a miracle!
  
• Bread arrived. The bread is gorgeous. Mmm bread... One of the loaves is in the shape of the Horned god's head and is set up as a kind of altar (also one is in the shape of a hedgehog and one, the baker being a red person, is in the shape of a thingie...)
  
• I remember to put butter out
  
• Lex the wine butler cometh and is competent with mulling spices and does his thing without needing much from me, which is great.
  
• And then loads of people come and the PA arrives and starts playing my medieval medley and I have to hover near the door to deal with people who've lost their ticket honest or who are otherwise a special case and direct performers to the green room and be hugged and smile and try not to shout at anyone at all even if I'm right.
  
• The Pig arrives! Huzzah for the Pig! and it's cooked and on time and has an apple in its mouth and is on a tray the size of a door which importantly doesn't drip grease everywhere like last year. Huzzah!
  
• We serve starters (mushroom pate with mascarpone in and spicy bean pate and lovely bread). I am particularly proud of this cos I made the recipe and did the sums of how much to buy and we didn't waste loads cos people loved them. The choir sings. There may have been some audience participation around this point.
  
• Pig is served, and the finally defrosted apple sauce. And roasted veg and salad and baked spuds. And stew. But not enough stew. Not nearly enough. In fact the level in the pot barely seems to go down.
  
• Kat sings and is good. I realise I can't remember any of my drum patterns.
  
• At some point someone makes me make a speech. It's very brief and I don't remember it at all.
  
• We are running short of door staff but people don't seem to mind very much. Looking at the numbers nearly everyone turned up except about six volunteers. Typical.
  
• Desert happens, which is lovely caramelised oranges and cake. Morag manages splendidly to reclaim salad bowls and wash them and get it all served out without help from me.
  
• Some red people play fiddle and stuff, and then there's a red panto. Kind of. It was the story of the Hobyahs (http://www.thecyberchef.com/hobyahs.html) with extra gore and shrieking red people.
  
• People are persuaded to move tables and some of them start to wash up. Another miracle!
  
• Beastie drummers then us. I like to drum. Drum good. People like us.
  
• More washing up. Much more. Many people help including Matt and Claire and Gandolf and Gav and people that they recruit so I don't have to spend all night shouting for volunteers. Yay! Dancing happens. Jon helps me count and pack all the hired crockery and glasses. I have no doubt forgotten to thank many people, but they were ace.
  
• People begin to drift off. Cleaning happens, and many many bin bags are filled. All of them to be precise. Also all the washing up liquid is used. The pig is dismembered and eventually goes away without my having to deal with it. We are down to half a dozen helped so I abandon the two huuge pots of stew since we have no bins or washing up liquid. Oh gods! So much stew!
  
• I finally get home and Jon helps me up the four flights of stairs with my giant case and drum. Great sex follows. And dreams of stew.
  

Four hours later I am awake again. My knee hurts. Ow. I take painkillers and make it to the hall before the cleaner so she won't faint at the sight of stew. The Rector wants us to take ALL the rubbish away. Tef turns up to help after my late night LJ plea and gets going while I start phoning round to see who can help. Graeme comes to get glasses and Davey comes in the van and Tef goes with the tables to help. Someone comes to get a coat they left and somehow most of the rubbish is gone in various cars vans and hand to places I shall not enquire about. Fluffy and Abby turn up and we clean tables and wash up and scoop stew until sick. to. death. of. stew. A crazy church lady comes to make coffee and is mad at us in French for a bit. I dub her Mrs Cake. Even the cleaner doesn't know precisely who Mrs Cake is. Abby and her friend take a ton of stew away in pots. i think they are planning to give it away on the street. Me and Tef take vegetables to the homeless shelter and have a pint.

The End.

[1] i.e. fizzyboot's sleep cycle
[2] Not that it was a bad stew, it was just...big...

Pictures will follow when I have finished buying Xmas stuff.