16 September 2027
Thursday. Spring, and every Friday and Saturday sitting for weeks is spoken for. I am a popular host. I am also exhausted.
A gentleman rang this afternoon hoping for a table for six on Saturday night. The gamesmaster checked. There was nothing. He asked if I could squeeze them in. I could not. My chairs are counted, my hours are counted, and my patience, frankly, is counted too.
My advice to anybody planning dinner with me: reserve early. The booking calendar on the website shows every sitting the moment it exists and confirms you on the spot. The telephone works as well, for those who prefer a human voice.
Midweek is quieter. A Tuesday has a certain charm. The candles burn longer. The beans are fresher. I am, if anything, more attentive, by which I mean I am at the shops for slightly less time.
The gentleman booked a Wednesday. He sounded disappointed. He will not be by the end of it.
— B., your host
