Host: Mr. & Mrs. Gillis 
Toastmaster: Mr. Macleod 
Regrets: Mr. Perina & Ms. Caverzan, Ms. Martin 

This time last year, we were making special preparations for the 2000 annual dinner: canned goods, bottled water, and whatever we could steal from the neighbours with our (unregistered) AK-47 assault weapons, cooked by the excess heat from our emergency generators. Instead, we had to rough it with a refinished tennis court and a pool that might have needed a really good skimming to remove the frogs (escaped from the new Frog Pond) so that there would be room for one more Funi brother. So now that we've cured the world's Y2K problems, let's move on to the next challenge: Global Warming - Is There Enough Of It About? 

The day's festivities began with the usual splash in the pool for some, and with the not-so-usual tennis game for others. The refurbishment of the tennis court (which now bears a disturbing resemblance to Centre Court at Wimbledon) gathered much praise, although Robbie twisted an ankle and Our Host suffered a case of "road rash" and a cracked wrist from a superhuman effort to return a typically difficult shot. Overheard later on from Our Hostess: "Cracked bones like that are slow to heal, and he's had a lot of good time at stud, so maybe I'll just call the vet..." We trust that this was said in reference to one of the equine household, or should we be looking around for a substitute Cheese Server (or Reserver) for next year? 

The company was seated and dinner began at 7:30 post meridian. 

Hors d'oeuvres were served by Mr. & Mrs. Macleod at table, consisting of fresh duck livers and pate de foie volade with a port and Grand Marinier sauce. 

Mr. Lemon and Ms. Whitman then served their Cauliflower Vichyssoise soup, although several diners complained that their portion had been served too early, since it seemed to have gone cold. This course contained "almost no fish," which led to some discussion about whether or not the infamous Lesbian Squid actually qualified as "fish." 

The soup was followed by Mr. Smith's and Ms. Macintosh's Brandied Chicken Breasts, accompanied by Mr. Bagg's and Ms. Conrad's Dolmathes. During this course, Mr. Wood reported on the e-mail that he had received from Mr. Perina, who was depicted as "having a good time and drinking Ludmilla, although he misses us." No mention was made of the late, lamented Orca. 

Ms. Gillis then served a Green Garden Salad, consisting entirely of greens freshly-picked from the Great Outback Yard, with contributions from Ms. Wood (tearing up the greens) and Mr. Gillis (creating the Paradise Vinaigrette dressing). 

Following the salad, Mr. Gillis gave a reading of his letter to the food critic at the Comically Horrid in praise of his favourite restaurant, Newman's of Annapolis Royal. He claimed this putative beanery was unjustly omitted from that critic's reviews, despite its consistently excellent menu. There was also a reply from said Critic, noting that this omission was at least partially justified by the distance (2 hours driving time for Gillis or Whitman; 3 hours for normal mortals) between Halifax and Annapolis Royal, meaning that Haligonians were unlikely to choose that location for a quick evening jaunt. This led to some discussion regarding a newspaper that likes to style itself as the "voice of Nova Scotia" and its preference for revewing only sites and events located in the Metro region. 

Mr. Flute and Ms. Murphy then served an Eye of Round (moving into Sirloin, until hit with a cleaver and put out of its misery), rolled and cut, marinated with wasabi horseradish and served with a sherry cream morel sauce garnished with blueberries and parsley. This was accompanied by Mr. Bagg's and Ms. Conrad's barbecued tomato, green beans and "new" potato (which tasted strangely like potato that I had eaten on previous occasions). 

Several conversations ensued regarding Clare and table-top dancing, Sean's new underwear, and other topics too racy to relate in a newsletter that might fall into inappropriate hands -- in fact, inappropriate hands may have been one of the topics as well. 

Interestingly enough, the traditional argument was not brought up regarding the relative merits and gustatory precedents of "savoury or sweet last?" Perhaps this resulted from the fact that the dessert had been prepared by Mr. and Mrs. Wood, although it seems unlikely that the Bigglesian propensity for discourse could have been curbed by such a trivial matter as paternity of a sweet course. In any event, the dish was a Peach Tart made with golden syrup, cream whipped with rum, and topped with toasted almonds. 

Mr. Flute proposed a toast to the Host and Hostess on behalf of the Funis, and Debbie responded on behalf of the Gillises. 

Further discussions centred on the topics "Two Funis versus Too Few Knees" and "Joe Clarke - can He be the King of Kings as foretold?" (also known as "Too Few MPs"), although it was widely agreed that the meal would not result in "Too Few Empties". Discussions were also exhumed on the topics of the Funi Glasses, Funi Napkins, Funi Jacket, Funi Tie, and Funi Financial Statements (with associated references to Lesbian Squid Farms). This led (not inappropriately, for some) to the topic of "Sex and Gender (is there enough of it about?)". 

Please believe me when I tell you that, at the time, it seemed to be of the utmost importance to record that these topics had been discussed. Looking back, I can't imagine why, but there you are. 

Eventually, and after some prodding, Mr. Gillis produced a plate of paté, various cheeses and fruit. Discussion and digression continued into the wee hours, though it was noted that, perhaps as a result of the cooler weather, post-prandial pooling was not pursued. I blame it on the dearth (or death?) of orcas, myself -- a lack that Ms. Murphy attributes to the previous year's late-night boisterousness of Mr. Flute (a chorus of "Oh! Oh!" from the Honourable Members), although the Funi in question denies the charges. Debbie was only heard to say that they didn't have patches big enough to repair the damage... 

And on Sunday...