In the morning, I saw that there was plenty of red wine left — in its case under the bar.
In the fridge, I found a huge bag of Bibb lettuce salad.
Before breakfast, the first e-mail came in: “What a beautiful night. I don’t think I’ve ever been to such a magical party — the tent, the calm, intelligent clusters of people (I wanted to talk to almost everyone), your gorgeous lit house, the great food, all presided over, it seemed, by those two majestic trees . . .”
Around 9 the phone started to ring.
Such a success, said one person, and another. A great success. And that pork! That pork! Oh, and by the way, is there any pork left?