The Victoriana Show Hoot was a great success mostly due to Brenda Parkes's effort.
I went with three gowns and ditched one as it was far too small.
Faith wore a mavellous ensemble in purple and red.
Rosemary had on a super duper ballgown of black skirt and red on black bodice.
Almost all of us had on a high collar look or a choker.
I blazed through the dinner in a Laurel Burch Christmas cotton print.
Dinner was turkey with dressing, curry and wild rice mixed in with white rice as well as those adorable fingerling potatoes. Salad was quaint and had quail's egg yolk as well as ordinary egg wedge along with other niceties. Dessert was for lush-ious-ness - flambéed figgy pudding, you know, surrounded by fresh berries and the stickiest hard sauce.
Not wanting anymore victoriana, I headed out to a party shop where I found an eye patch for another year's "Talk Like A Pirate Day."
Sunday afternoon, we had a Victorian high tea before dispersing to return home.
I managed to ride the eight o'clock train and sat next to a brain surgeon deep in the diagrams of a brain and spinal column. All around, there were yuppies with laptops and otherwise. There was no luggage check and I had help heaving my big round bagful of long dresses onto a rack full of backpacks.
The ride to Union Station took a couple of hours and the steward was loading up the refreshment wagon all the while but didn't sell anything. Whooppee! I hit the yuppy commuter train back to T.O. from Mon'réal!
All in all, it was a wonderful week-end with coconut shrimps sitting in a pool of red flecks and seeds and a time-honoured stir-fry sitting in a pool of oil on a steak platter and frying tableware.
Well, the week-end was a success due to no one discovering my predicament with the food. The cook ought to be shot.