The Hostess with the.....

When I was growing up I'm sure there was an advert that used the phrase 'Hostess with the mostest," and it has a lot to answer for. I have no idea what the advert was for; maybe Cinzano or a hostess trolley but I do remember the woman, with a frilly blouse undone to show a perfect 1970's bosom and flicky hair, simpering into the camera talking about how important it was to get a party right.

I am a reluctant host.  To be fair, I'm a reluctant attendee of a party but hosting comes with the pressure of being perfect.  I am not perfect.  I'd love to be one of these people who breezes through hosting a party with a clean kitchen floor, all homemade food and tea towels over the cooker handle with their stripes in perfect alignment and all I can do is aspire to it.

I try to make my own sausage rolls and the Long Suffering Husband wonders aloud whether it might have been better to buy some, or whether we rename them sausage meat with a side order of incredibly flaky pastry. I have been cooking for four days (that's not really true) and am now ready for bed.

My large extended family are due to arrive in less than half an hour and although I have warned them that I'm a grumpy host I'm not sure they will be entirely prepared for me settling down to read the book I have bought for the occasion. 

I also have a notebook hidden in every room because they are not dull people.  Do you think writing this  blog is fair warning?