Thursday is ambiguous: some say “is it already Thursday?”, some say “is it still Thursday?”
Whether it is “already” or “still” Thursday, on April 7 come have a drink with us: open brackets in via Perugia 41.
Che sia “già” o “ancora” giovedì, il 7 aprile vieni a bere un bicchiere insieme a noi: a partire dalle 18, aperte quadre in via Perugia 41.
Gabriele Cecere will gift us with a taste of his skill as a calligrapher, there will be wine, there will be something to eat, there will be us, and hopefully there will be you!
“Now we are all here!” said Gandalf, looking at the row of thirteen hoods—the best detachable party hoods—and his own hat hanging on the pegs. “Quite a merry gathering! I hope there is something left for the late-comers to eat and drink! What’s that? Tea! No thank you! A little red wine, I think for me.”
“And for me,” said Thorin.
“And raspberry jam and apple-tart,” said Bifur.
“And mince-pies and cheese,” said Bofur.
“And pork-pie and salad,” said Bombur.
“And more cakes—and ale—and coffee, if you don’t mind,” called the other dwarves through the door.
“Put on a few eggs, there’s a good fellow!” Gandalf called after him, as the hobbit stumped off to the pantries. “And just bring out the cold chicken and pickles!”
“Seems to know as much about the inside of my larders as I do myself!” thought Mr Baggins, who was feeling positively flummoxed, and was beginning to wonder whether a most wretched adventure had not come right into his house.
The Hobbit, J. R. R. Tolkien, 1937