The engagement party, round two.

So to say I have been avoiding writing this post is an understatement. In the last few weeks I have managed to distract myself with several seemingly important tasks such as re organising my tea cup collection, making batch after batch of popcorn, and sitting down at the computer to look at websites devoted to dudes with beards eating cupcakes. OK so maybe that one wasn't such a waste of time, that website has brought a lot of joy into my life, but fairs fair and I'm just using these bearded men to avoid getting down to business.

I'm trying to write about the meeting of the families at our engagement high tea and it's as if everyone involved is hovering ghost like in the room as I type. I don't think it's possible to truly share or express the emotions of this event and that's not a bad thing. As public as I like to make my life some things are just private.

Luckily in my family there is a skill of using food to express what we can't say or write. Once I was really sick and my dad was teasing me while I was curled up in a miserable ball of lurgy on the couch. Half an hour later he brought me a beautiful hearty soup, and it said everything I needed to hear.

So let's talk about the food at Mary and Chris' (I get to be put first since it's my bloody blog!) engagement high tea.

Mum was churning out sandwiches when I arrived, all white bread with the crusts cut off and looking oh so country women's association. Daddy Paul was slicing up his Sri Lankan love cake and moaning about the fact that it was too dry (honestly I love that spicy cake so much I would have eaten it if you had to snap pieces off).

I had decided that it would be 'oh so easy' to just throw together some mini quiches for my contribution. As I began preparations it became painfully clear that this was not going to be the case. Chris had just arrived with his mum and her beautiful scones, sensing my rage he tried to hide on a couch. All present parental figures were discussing important matters such as scone/tiered cake presentation and their lack of attention only heightened my anxiety. Let's just say I'm not a very good wall flower. I vented by yelling at Chris to commence making his contribution (fairy bread) certain that if he didn't start right now the entire event was going to be a disaster and the house would probably implode and kill us all. Patiently he pointed out that there was no room on the kitchen bench, and I wondered about stabbing him in the eye with a fork. I was sure that if he truly loved me he would have gotten on his hands and knees and started making fairy bread on the floor.

This is when it becomes clear that a relationship can not consist of just two people.

My brother Theo has weathered many of my stormy moods and has an almost uncanny sense of what needs to be done to prevent a torrent of tears being unleashed on everyone. Quickly he jumped into the production line along with my dad's housemate Marilyn and suddenly many hands were making light work. A space was made for Chris and his mum to make the fairy bread and someone provided me with a glass of champagne. Finally I could breathe again.

Chris' sister Michelle arrived with an actual army of cupcakes and my aunts added Sicilian sweets and lemon tarts. As I looked around the room at everyone mingling and getting to know each other I realised that the table full of this delicious feast was a food representation of our families support of our relationship. Without all of these beautiful people in our lives the table would have been bare and I would have been hungry and probably butchered Chris and eaten his heart.

In short - Family rocks and without their love your relationship will starve.