It was a blustery September day,
Autumn leaves and crisp cool air
The guests had been invited, the food was in the pot
The table had been polished and the glassware spic and span
A five course feast was bubbling away, a chef begins to fret.
The diners came – on time – no less, and wine was poured, yet not
a drop was spilt
The mussels broke the ice, with saffron, thyme and zest
English bubbles, Rabbit, and Barberra ensued, the guests relaxed
and felt, like this was something rather special
A members club, a secret night, a feast, a treat, a gourmandise
A Supperclub, no less.