The Morning After the Night Before

Something happened at Willow's ball that I found very interesting. I got a little tipsy. Not that there is anything all that interesting about getting tipsy as such, but you see, I don't drink. I used to drink, back in the old days, before I figured out that my life was much less complicated if I didn't. Now I wax ecstatic over a good bottle of Carl Jung de-alcoholized red.

Last night was different. I dressed in the finest finery, arranged to be driven to the ball in a truly luxurious car, made my grand entrance on the arm of the divine Colin Firth in his Darcy persona, and proceeded to tie one on. I drank anything that I could get my hands on - martinis, champagne, tequila - I mixed the grain and the grape with abandon (an exciting combination, that) and tripped the light fantastic. Colin, the cad, turned out to be escorting several ladies, which involved a good deal of disappearing/re-appearing and costume changes on his part. I found that quite amusing. When I wasn't with Colin, I danced with someone else - lots of someone elses. I even learned to rhumba with Reya (I don't think either of us realized that the other one didn't actually know how to rhumba. We may have been doing the hokey-pokey, for all I know.) Given the amount I drank, it's a wonder I could walk, much less dance, but dance I did - and you know what? I feel great today - no hangover at all. There's a lot to be said for virtual drunkenness. All the disinhibition, none of the sequelae.

What else? The virtual ball, the virtual wardrobe and transportation and drunkenness and desserts (Oh, my - the desserts!) were wonderful exercise for my imagination. I feel restored and ready to write. Thank you, Willow. You made some magic.

We've arrived!



Isn't it splendid? My heart is absolutely pounding with excitement. Just look at the beautiful gardens, all aglow with fairy lights - and the brilliant entryway.






Oh, Willow has done herself proud! We just climbed out of the Bentley and left it in the capable hands of Willow's parking attendants. Oh, wait - I nearly forgot my hostess gift. Here - have a look. I think I chose well - a literary gift for a literary hostess. It's a first edition copy of Pride and Prejudice - fitting, don't you think, considering that I have Colin Firth, the definitive Mr. Darcy, on my arm?

Listen! Can you hear the music? Oh, I can hardly wait to be twirling around and around the ballroom, my ears and my heart filled with that wonderful sound. Is that Herr Mozart's orchestra? Splendid, indeed!

Shall We Dance?







It's here at last -- the Willow Manor Ball! I wasn't in town for last year's ball, so this year's invitation came as a delightful surprise. As soon as I read it, I set about my preparations - shopping, making arrangements for transportation -oh, by the way, what do you think of my Bentley? I've had it detailed for the occasion (gilding the lily, I confess. The car is pristine.) and the rear-seat bar is stocked with champagne and strawberries, to tide us over on the way to the ball.





I took an inordinate amount of time picking out my dancing shoes. I wanted something elegant, but something that I could comfortably wear while I danced for hours and hours in the arms of my partner. In the end, I chose these. They are satin pumps, designed for dancing, in a neutral colour with just a bit of sheen - not so much as to compete with my dress:



Speaking of dresses, I've been so excited, and also terribly worried that I wouldn't be able to find something to wear. I don't know why I worried so much, though. I found the absolutely perfect, perfectly splendid gown. It suits me very well, don't you think? Not only does it highlight the wasp waist I've worked so hard to attain, but it shows off my new, youthful face and skin (By the way, there was no surgery involved - just a bit of magic that I learned on the set of Bewitched).






And here is - Wait - are you sitting down? Get out your fans, ladies. First, I must tell you a secret - well, two secrets - First, I thought of asking Matt McConaughey to the ball. He certainly knows his way around the dance floor, as those of you who have seen The Wedding Planner will agree, but I was afraid that we would start talking about his role in my book, and this evening is meant to be a break from all that. Then, Antonio Banderas was hinting about escorting me, and I confess I was tempted, as he dances divinely. He is particularly adept at the tango.



In the end, though, a way with the tango just wasn't enough. I needed the perfect partner, and there was only one man who fit that bill. There were other ladies who felt the same way, but when he saw me, my dream partner would hold no other woman in his perfect arms, twirl no other across the ballroom to the swelling strains of the immortal Strauss waltzes.


You may not be able to pick us out of the crowd, but we have danced together before, and if you know where to look, you'll see us, and you'll see how happy we are to be dancing together.

So, without further ado, I present for your admiration (and your envy, if I'm to be perfectly honest) my escort for the evening, the glorious Colin Firth, Darcy himself.


Eat your heart out, Elizabeth Bennett!