The House Diaries: Throwing the best lunch
#39: A House Full of Friends, A Heart Full of Joy
Oh my darlings, my heart is full!
It was Patrick’s birthday last weekend, and for the past few months I’ve been quietly plotting to make it magical. It’s such a rare and precious thing when all of us, scattered across cities, countries, time zones, and chaotic schedules, manage to gather in one place. So I wanted it to feel special. Thoughtful. Full of warmth and life, and people lingering at the table long after the last glass has been poured.
I organised a long, lazy lunch at ours. It’s the first time we’ve hosted a party like that in the house - ok, fine, I’ve done lunch clubs, but this was different. This was everyone. All of our people. And I wanted it to feel like one of those endless summer Sundays, the kind that hum along gently with wine and candlelight and the soft clatter of forks against shared plates.
Yes, candles! Even in broad daylight. Because frankly, we deserve drama. (And as you well know - candles improve absolutely everything.)
The flowers were a mix of cosmos, dahlias, and butterfly ranunculus, my holy trinity of summer blooms. Although, side note: butterfly ranunculus really peak in April, so I was feeling rather smug to have coaxed them in June.
The tablescape was a palette of white and sage green, with handwritten menus at every place. Food came in generous platters: BBQ fish with a herby chimichurri, buttery potatoes, mountains of sourdough focaccia, and for dessert, what else than a great big summer pavlova, collapsing under the weight of cream and berries. It was delicious. I never wanted it to end.
It was messy, loud, joyful and loving - kids darting between chairs, glasses topped up just-so, and the kind of laughter that rolls through a room like a song you don’t want to stop.
At one point, I looked around - someone passing the fish platter, someone else explaining a joke to a toddler, someone snapping a photo of the chaos -and I just felt completely overcome with gratitude. For Patrick. For our friends. For the noise and the beauty and the joy of being surrounded by people who love each other fiercely.
After lunch, we spilled out into the garden with our drinks. There were cigars. A birthday bell was rung. At golden hour, a few of us gathered around the fire pit, wrapped in blankets, talking until the sky turned lavender. We danced to indie pop until the very small hours - shoes off, hearts full.
But listen - before any of that happened, I was in full-blown manic cleaning mode. I’m talking bins scrubbed, floorboards polished, panic hoovering, the works. I even repainted the bedroom the night before. Madness. But worth it. The colour? It’s a very special paint, and I’m not allowed to say more just yet - but very, very soon I’ll be shouting about it. Let’s just say it made the room sing.
And the next morning, bleary-eyed and slightly too giddy, we walked down to the shore and swam in the sea. Cold, clear, electric. The perfect punctuation to a perfect day.
It’s not every day you get to orchestrate a memory like that—one that felt soft, generous, and full of life. One I’ll carry with me for a long, long time.
A little heart means the world and lets me know that you like what I’m writing.
LOVE YOU THE MOST <3