Speak Now

IX

Easter Sunday means it's all go in the Delaney residence. Having the run of the main house, it was down to us to play host, which really, was easier said than done. Keira, Aoife, Nina, Logan, James, Charlie, Sam and I were supposed to be feeding the entire Delaney clan but our expertise didn't cover that demand. In fact, you couldn't have chosen eight worse people to host the Sunday dinner. 

After the morning mass, we traipsed back to the house to resume the preparations but the old saying of too many cooks was proving right. With the eight of us all trying to do the same tasks, the kitchen was fast becoming a disaster zone. Thankfully, Moira and Helen Delaney came to our rescue, giving us all our own jobs to do. Keira and Logan were in charge of whatever was in the three ovens cooking while Aoife and James were buddied up and told to keep an eye out on the rest of the food. Nina and Charlie were tasked with getting the desserts ready, leaving Sam and me to set the dining room up. 

Thanks to the sheer number of people here this weekend, we were doing a family style buffet, where everyone could help themselves to whatever was on offer. Together, Sam and I planned to move much of the furniture around, hoping to create some sort of station layout so that the flow of traffic would keep moving. Unfortunately, we couldn't agree on the finer details. Yes, the traditional turkey and vegetables would go on the large table in the centre of the room but through which door would people be entering? Apparently, this was our biggest issue.

"I think we should have a table here for the plates and cutlery," Sam said, choosing the door nearest to the living room. I shook my head in disagreement and rolled my eyes when Sam sighed irritably. He pointed at the door. "But it makes sense seeing as they'll be coming in from the living room."

"But what if most of them go back to the living room to eat?" I pose. Shaking my head, I point to the other door at the opposite end of the wall. "They should come in that way. Then leave through the door nearest the living room so they can get there quicker. Logic."

Sam stood his ground. "No, that's the wrong call."

We argued on this matter for twenty minutes. Twenty minutes that could have been spent doing something more constructive, like moving the tables and putting out the plates and cutlery. Eventually, Sam gave in and told me that I could set the station up near the door of my choosing, on one condition: he got to decide where the dessert table would go. Naturally, he picked the corner that I wouldn't even dream of setting up the dessert table but whatever. If people were going to complain, at least they'd be complaining to him or about him. 

He was critical of the way I'd draped the tablecloths, lecturing me on the way it should be done Who knew that this was an art?! "See, this is how it should be," he triumphantly announced once he'd corrected my mistake. 

"Oh, I'm sorry, didn't realise you were an expert on how to lay the tablecloth," I sarcastically mutter. "Hold on, let me get some paper and a pen so I can take notes."