...until the red wine hit the cream sofa.
And it was me.
It was a very slow-moving spillage but a spillage nonetheless. Our divine hostess, the glorious Dr L, was about to sit to my left. I moved to my right and before I knew it, my arm had shook/moved and the offending liquid was liberated on to the sofa and also on to my dear friend G's beautiful skirt.
Things moved quickly afterwards. White wine was tipped, salt was scattered, stain remover found, the coverS (!) were stripped and soaked and the washing machine was on before anyone could say 'I'm glad I/my wife didn't do that'!
My friend and hostess were both very gracious and calm. I was not. I think I may have to give up red wine or parties or both.
I am also, as anyone would be, mortified but am pleased to report that I must have done some good in a previous life as the clean and wholesome covers were back on the sofa by 10.30am when I popped over to help with the washing up, apologise profusely and offer to sacrifice my cheque book. The washing machine gods smiled upon me and all is well.
I imagine any New Years Eve party invitations will suddenly dry up or be addressed to The Worker. It's going to be a cold and lonely end to 2010! I think I'll stick to pinot grigio and sit very still in the living room.