In celebration of street parties

There is something very equalising about a street party. At one gathering I attended last year on a central London mews, a trust fund baby peered nervously out from his living room window before deciding to emerge, carrying two bottles of champagne and a flower vase filled with a tumultuous mess of a Platinum Jubilee trifle. When the lemonade for the Pimm’s ran out, the champagne was mixed in instead. He didn’t seem to mind.

It’s good for us British to be thrust into these social settings. I get the impression that some of the Mediterranean peoples do this sort of thing every weekend: long balmy evenings help I suppose. But we are less accustomed to letting strangers in on our mealtime rituals. The unpredictable weather forecast for this weekend should at least provide an icebreaker. Other reliable conversation starters you may wish to employ include whether or not the broad beans are the making or the downfall of the coronation