...and they have all gone home, replete.
And the fridge is full of enticing aluminum-foil-swathed masses of things which will become sandwiches for the inner city mission and/or SOOP for the rummaging hordes...
We had 38 souls, all sorts and conditions. And they all visited nicely with each other, and laughed and laughed. And stayed to the bitter, bitter end, until the last pot and spoon and fork were washed and put away.
When the teenagers and post-teenagers we NEVER see at other times came sloping into the kitchen, "Can I help?" -- I said, "Yes, please, go and check the situation in the dining-room and if anybody is sitting alone in the corner looking sad and mouldy, or moldy, GO VISIT WITH THEM." And they laughed, and did.
And the young man who brought the pumpkin ale...is a professional brewmaster (isn't God good to us?)
I am pooped, dear friends, I am going home to bed.