7:00 p.m.

Hmm ... I was going to wear my double-crested cormorant. But if it turns out everyone else has gone casual, then I’ll be a red-faced cormorant indeed. I can’t claim to be a marbled godwit at these affairs; still, my dignity deserves better than what happened last year, when a wandering tattler embarrassed me throughout Greater Yellowlegs and vicinity. (Not that I’m the least bittern.)

8:30 p.m.

Sigh. I had hoped to spend the evening rummying at gin, to use an elegant tern of phrase. But it’s the top of the ninth, and McKay’s bunting. And so, in the tradition of resourceful literary characters like Woolf’s Orlando and Lawrence’s Goldfinch, I’ll just play a hand of Townsend’s solitaire.

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Copyright © Jonathan Caws-Elwitt. This page created November 14, 2009.