Promised rains finally arrive, but it has been unseasonably warm and dry, so no complaints. Dinner scheduled to begin at eight rather than seven as usual, and it strikes us as funny that instead of thinking about the unlikelihood of lasting in the hall until midnight, we're thinking of the wait until eight for the meal. There's a choice of meze for starters and a not overwhelming dessert buffet. In between, Jane and I have duck and Bill and J lamb kleftiko. There's a dj and a little dancing plus a brief appearance by a belly dancer who finds us, I suspect, too small and sober a group to warrant her attentions and heads off for presumably more satisfactory venues. We head back elevenish and follow the progress of the New Year across the time zones on the telly.
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