The Bulk of the Evening

It transpired that he had taken umbrage at the presence of one of my guests for a reason which, although very possibly imagined, eventually came to take on a rather nightmarish reality, so that by the end of the evening the balance of loathing had been totally and unquestionably restored.

Torn between the amiable chatter of my companions in the next room and the ratty presence in the hall I left the dining room door ajar, in case he felt excluded by anything other than his own private and, frankly, rickety bone of contention, and repaired to the "good room". He became something of a sensation with the others, who speculated good-humouredly on the reasons for his absenteeism, evidently not having over-heard his powerful critique of my hall. Finally, however, I decided that I would leave him there on his own to work it through; my change of mind was perhaps occasioned by the fact that one of my guests returned from a trip to the toilet to report that she had seen him spitting vigorously at a reproduction of a painting by L.S.Lowry which was hanging by the front door. It would probably be better, I said to the bemused party seated around the ebony table in the dining-room, if I shut this.

 

(Click The Friend for part 2)