Decidophobia- the fear of making decisions

Part 1

The room is almost filled by the long table that stretches from end to end. Atop is a white linen tablecloth embroidered with silver snowflakes that glitter when the light catches them. The table is laden with shining white plates set for each person and glimmering crystal glasses in every shape, from wine to water. Silver cutlery is neatly lined up, salad fork, dinner fork, cake fork, dessert spoon, dinner knife, teaspoon, soup spoon, all proudly displaying the initials of the hostess in a curling Edwardian script. The centre of the table holds what looks like a hundred crystal candle stands with tall silver candles elegantly rising skyward like sentinels. Between them, small glass cubes sprout dozens of creamy white roses, a gem glowing in the centre of each flower.

Behind the table is a brick wall featuring huge windows that rise arching, like those of an ancient cathedral, from white marble floor to ceiling. There are no drapes, the only background is the snow falling outside. The room should be cold, but is only pleasantly cool.

Inside too it appears that snow is falling. The ceiling above drips with strings of clear gems, pearls and tiny paper globes in white and silver. Four chandeliers in different sizes hang over the table like shimmering crystal orbs, a million shining flower petals. Light bulbs hang suspended in delicate spherical cages like shining, white birds. It is a beautiful chaos of light.

Each seat is covered in a think white fur, soft to the touch and the smell of roses and lavender is only faint in the air. The table glitters, the snow outside glitters, the chandeliers glitter. The  white and silver room fills with the sound of strings and clinking of glasses as the night begins.

Part 2

The walls reflect the deep redness of oak in the gentle golden lighting. The long table is covered in a rich gold silk that matches the thick carpeting underfoot. The table is a mass of large red roses and purple carnations in both tall and short glass vases with round bases that look as though they have been dipped in spun sugar. The roses, their delicate petals fully open, spill over the edge of the vases.  Tea candles cast a warm light from tiny spun sugar holders. These cover the whole centre of the table, a riot of crimson, eggplant and burgundy and the diffusion of candle light.

Heavy bone china plates with a pattern of tiny roses around the edges and smooth, weighty cutlery are set at each place with rose petals scattered along the length of the table. From the high ceiling ornate filigree chandeliers hold frosted bulbs that give off a gentle golden glow. The ceiling is covered in elaborate inlays and cornicing, cherubs flutter between olive wreaths and fluffy clouds.  The rich scent of cinnamon fills the warm air.

The chairs are high backed, heavy, dark wood with red silken seats and backs. Everything is warm and soft as candles flicker, casting shadows on the petal strewn tablecloth. An indigo place card sits at each place with each name handwritten in gold calligraphy. The sound of laughter fills the room as people find their places.