There is a hackneyed saw that one should not linger at table beyond three hours, after which the candles melt and the guest begins to smell like unattended fish. Today we were not only conspicuously close to violating that formula, we in fact transgressed the boundary. The extension was however evidence not so much of bad manners as it was of a thoroughly pleasant Saturday afternoon communion on a chilly late November day.  It is nearing the Christmas season and we were alerted to the theme immediately upon our arrival at the front door. Thence followed further publication of the Advent and all that that entails. It was patently clear that the celebration of the ritual has its transcendental tenor, stimulating a long standing family tradition.

What however was as demonstrably lucid was that we hadn’t adopted the erstwhile custom of fasting; instead we were persuaded by the tradition of feasting. The festive board was bountiful and delicious. Though I remarked with favour that we were not hurried in our pursuit of matters throughout the social gathering, this was before having removed ourselves from the drawing to the dining room where I first captured sight of what awaited us.  It was in all a spectacular way to begin the season and the celebration of the seasonal tradition with friends. I hasten to add that the confab among those at table was enlivening and at times bordered on intellectual or scientific.