We survived...

just!

A couple of months ago some pétanque playing friends of ours were here for lunch.

‘What are you doing for new year?’

‘Nothing, we never do!’

That was where we went wrong.  If we had only thought we could so deftly have come up with a stonking fib along the lines of 

‘Actually we are planning a 

Dr. Barbara Moore walk from John O’Groats to Land’s End departing 

on the 31st!’

Well to cut a long story short they invited themselves for us all to have a braii on the beach.

Our mouths opened and closed all the while resembling a codling landed on the shore.

And so it was.

After checking into their hotel along the road they arrived at four, yes, 4 pm.  Mob-handed with barbecues, bangers, beer and bonhomie.

At 7.30 pm I feebly enquired as to how long until midnight?

‘Four and half hours!’ came the cheery reply, them all settling in for a full-on party.

Throughout the evening my enquiries became more feeble, 
their enjoyment of my sobriety in 

the midst of them downing beer,

 red/white wine, champagne, gin. 

We counted the hours down, with me reluctantly beginning to enjoy myself, much against my sober self looking on in sniffy self righteousness.

Midnight came and went with the flutes and fireworks, by this time the clock had ceased to play such importance in my psyche.

2.15 am they rambled off along the prom.

Thank goodness that’s over I thought as we climbed into bed.


10 am, back they came for coffee,

 laughing all the while as I said to Hubs we really must conveniently forget to let them have a forwarding address.

And to think they thought I was joking...