Making my own bread was not my idea of hosting something, but bread is made daily in our supermarkt and as I am always on my way with some sort of camera, I now and again sneak a photo. Here they seem to be platting bread for our Sunday specials.
Otherwise I avoid playing host when possible. I was too much a host in the past. If you want to drop by for a coffee, OK, but just do it spontaneously. No big announcements that get me confused about what to serve, how to serve it and all the perks that the invited might expect. And I definitely do not want to bake a cake. I now buy them in the store.
Being a Brit in a another country, now and again your English contacts and family decide to spend a few days in Switzerland. This is OK with me, especially if they are those who enjoy the Swiss way of life. Even criticisms are accepted, the Swiss life style is not everyone’s thing. I serve veal in a cream sauce now and again, and other countries might wrinkle their nose and prefer a steak and kidney pie.
Family is a little bit different, because they do not ask, it is obvious that you do it. At Christmas it was like a dormitory. Me and Mr. Swiss in our bedroom, my four kids in their bedrooms and where to put my mum and dad? Somehow we found space for two extra beds. Our living room was crowded, and I felt like I was feeding an army. When the actual celebrations occurred, I also had the Swiss mother-in-law as an extra.
Now I am a member of the golden oldie brigade and it is the next generation that visit. I am now the matriach and that is OK with me, after all I have a grandson who I do not host, just spoil. Hosting is no longer part of the plan. I even hosted a couple of web sites by invitation in the past, but such invitations I now avoid. At the age of 72 I want my “me” time.