you had to be there
So we all trooped down to Sunshine House to celebrate Sam's first birthday. He looked faintly perturbed by the whole thing. Luckily Sunshine House was playing host to actual sunshine, and there was a barbecue too, although on arrival we were told: 'Don't mention the burgers' , there having been some sort of burger-related crisis earlier on. Something to do with supply-and-demand issues; sanctions had had to be imposed... essentially, we were entering a war zone. Children, of whom there were quite a few, screamed. But then, that's mostly what they do. In response to these tensions I immediately dropped a beer bottle, just to watch it smash.
No, it was an accident of course, and ensured that I spent the first moments of the party in search of a dustpan and brush. This being Sunshine House, it was no ordinary dustpan and brush but some sort of fabulous contraption, and I had grave doubts about my ability to use it.
I needn't have worried.
Later, it seemed that an actual war had been declared because all the 'men' disappeared. However, this was something to do with a climbing frame further down the garden which had to be moved or assembled or something. I had witnessed men taking off their watches and solemnly handing them to their wives in preparation for this task. Which had alarmed me. Luckily, I had just speared a chorizo sausage when the call came, and I couldn't just abandon it, despite Mat's assurance that I would provide a vital hindrance to the task.
I haven't been down the end of that very large garden in years. Rumour has it that illegal immigrants toil in plantations down there, boosting the Sadler millions and occasionally being picked off by alligators from the swamp.
Our revels were not disturbed by alligators, only by a random spaniel which materialised on the lawn and ran madly about until Rhys persuaded it to leave. He was rather cagey about how he had managed to do this, but it was probably through one of the following methods:
1.) A 15-minute PowerPoint presentation explaining the finer points of social etiquette and the desirability of the spaniel's remaining in its own 'space'.
2.) The feeding of one randomly selected child to the spaniel. (As I said, there were quite a few there).
Kevin said, to everyone's surprise, that worms lived in lightbulbs.
No, it was an accident of course, and ensured that I spent the first moments of the party in search of a dustpan and brush. This being Sunshine House, it was no ordinary dustpan and brush but some sort of fabulous contraption, and I had grave doubts about my ability to use it.
I needn't have worried.
Later, it seemed that an actual war had been declared because all the 'men' disappeared. However, this was something to do with a climbing frame further down the garden which had to be moved or assembled or something. I had witnessed men taking off their watches and solemnly handing them to their wives in preparation for this task. Which had alarmed me. Luckily, I had just speared a chorizo sausage when the call came, and I couldn't just abandon it, despite Mat's assurance that I would provide a vital hindrance to the task.
I haven't been down the end of that very large garden in years. Rumour has it that illegal immigrants toil in plantations down there, boosting the Sadler millions and occasionally being picked off by alligators from the swamp.
Our revels were not disturbed by alligators, only by a random spaniel which materialised on the lawn and ran madly about until Rhys persuaded it to leave. He was rather cagey about how he had managed to do this, but it was probably through one of the following methods:
1.) A 15-minute PowerPoint presentation explaining the finer points of social etiquette and the desirability of the spaniel's remaining in its own 'space'.
2.) The feeding of one randomly selected child to the spaniel. (As I said, there were quite a few there).
Kevin said, to everyone's surprise, that worms lived in lightbulbs.
posted by martin at 10:46 AM
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