If you haven't done a dining in the dark event, I certainly recommend it. We began with cocktail sticks, on which were impaled what turned out to be a piece of goat's cheese, a leaf of apple mint, and a pickled strawberry. Our table did guess all those, but were quite bamboozled by the goat's cheese when it came back a couple of sticks later, this time wrapped in a rose petal: such is the power of juxtaposition. Other notable ingredients (not all on cocktail sticks) included a nasturtium leaf, courgette spaghetti, brown garlic, dessicated coconut, and a lime and chilli chocolate ganache dusted with ground coffee beans, amongst much else. The evening was led by a partially sighted man who more usually sets up outdoor events (even as I write this he is herding a party of blindfolded people through tick-infested Leigh Woods on the far side of the Suspension Bridge - I hope they're wearing trousers), but this was the first time he'd done anything involving food. Apart from the way in which it changed one's perception of the food itself, it also affected social interaction: the patterns of starting a conversation, addressing someone in particular (in a table of six strangers), interrupting, etc., were all quite different. Using a knife and fork was also interesting - though reassuringly possible. At one point we were made to switch tables - and I almost fell over a guide dog.
When we finally took the blindfolds off I was surprised at the appearance of my fellow diners: I'd not had much sense of their various ages at all. We drank some wine, then - somewhat randomly - were given long balloons to make into animal shapes (I abstained), before at length our party dispersed and I started home through the warm night, past the revellers in the Farm Pub next door (also worth looking at: since that picture was taken the conifer has acquired a pair of giant googly eyes) and back up the footpath through the allotments, guided in part (the night being dark by now, even on this solstice eve) by the solar cat's eyes that twinkle so prettily for nightwalkers, but as much by the scent of vergeside nettle and mock orange.