So with it being a mid-term Monday, possibly the worst kind of day ever invented, and the members of the Penthouse definitely needing a bit of a pick me up we decided to have a ‘make your own pizza night’.
My suburban middle-class childhood (in commuter-countryside Sussex) was inevitably populated with pizza-making parties, a classic amongst the children-of-doctors set I grew up with, whether it would be a home baking session with the AGA or a trip into town to the local Pizza Express. So the evening was a bit of a blast from the past as we covered ourselves in flour and one member of the group inevitably created the infamous ‘Face Pizza’ [affectionately christened Patrick].
However for the international members of the group (aka The Swedes), pizza parties had not been a phenomena of their childhood, so we were proud to introduce them into the cult family tradition.
As the pizzas baked in the oven we enjoyed a group game of Mr Men charades (yes it really did become a kids club), and spent most of the time in a wild fit of hysteria as the Swede got angrier and angrier trying to act out ‘Alice in Wonderland’, which is actually surprisingly tricky.