I was really looking forward to our block party in September. I had a bottle of Pimms in my possession, carefully stashed away with the intention of no imbibing until the big party, some neighbours had Grand Marnier, both left over from our own little shindig. I had visions of a leisurely afternoon event, casually grazing on pot luck and drinking slowly into the evening hours, maybe meeting some new neighbours from the adjoining houses and watching Lilac play with new little friends. Then, I found out that, firstly, it was to be on a Sunday and secondly, it was from 11.30am to 2.30pm. Being from the UK, I somewhat naively assumed that anything with the word party in it was an actual party. OK, no booze, I understood the sentiment but was still disappointed. The time seemed a little restrictive, "back home please everyone, it's over now".
