A new career? - part 2

And so the big, no make that enormous, day arrived...and it was raining, we say raining but we mean pouring. All in all not a great start to the festivities.

Determined to ensure the plan was kept to Christine sent out her friends to complete the planned walk in light of his oh so very sensible clothing. Chris's friends were much wiser and hid inside and avoided the ridiculous nonsense that was getting soaked and stung by stinging nettles.

Pleasingly the walk at least did have the pleasure of a pub at its end, less pleasingly just as he started to get into some pints of Spitfire one of Christine's friends turned up with instructions to "keep an eye on him" or in other words stop him getting drunk, very tedious.

This friend is however married to a German fellow and inspired by the Spitfire ads in the toilets he descended into comic German accent time. Oh dear.

Before matters could get completely out of hand the decision was taken to head back to the house and very fortunately a van outside offered them a lift. Some might suggest that jumping in the back of a transit with French plates with 14 other people just 10 miles from Dover is not the most sensible course of action but as usual common sense went for a burton.

Back at the house he finally got ready and dressed up in his circus ringmaster get up.

So finally with him ready the great event could happen and in the flash of an eye it was done.




With the formal parts of the day done, the fun could begin and so the mob descended upon the champagne. Sadly, again, he was barred from drinking but fortunately he had smuggled a hip flask in and was swigging away when out of view of his controllers.

A new career? - part 1

And so at last the great celebration of the nuptials of the lovely Christine and the splendid Chris. For reasons still to be satisfactorily explained Christine's father had suggested that our subject should be Master of Ceremonies for the happy day and so he had great fun with his tailor acquiring a toastmaster's jacket.

Finding the thing not fitting the day he picked it up was not really very helpful and necessitated the assistance of a courier to actually get the damn thing to him.

The weekend itself was being held on a country estate in deepest darkest Kent and with about a million police on patrol the journey down was not desperately exciting however to cheer everyone up on the Friday night the mothers were hosting a splendid supper and keeping everyone stocked up on booze.

With Boris and Churchy (and of course Mrs Churchy) having flown in for the occasion a great deal of nostalgic catching up was engaged in in the usual way before, rather astonishingly (and possibly a first), our subject was the last man standing and was up until the early hours on his own drinking and reading Private Eye.

Boris was of course delighted to be woken up (they were sharing a room) by the sound of his best Tourette's impression having smashed his head into the very low roof-beam in their room.

Limonhella

A relatively quiet weekend ... was planned. Finding himself at home for the first time in ages with no plans he invited his splendid chum Gravy round for some supper and being the splendid fellow that he is he brought some dessert.

Splendid but stupid as he turned up with a bottle of Limoncella for dessert.

Much as our subject likes alcohol in all its forms there are some more specialist drinks that approach the edges of what he enjoys and half a bottle of Limoncella certainly tested those edges. Certainly the hangover the next day pushed him through the edge.

Walking duties

Another year, another birthday and this time it was his sister's although not a special birthday or anything interesting like that. Summoned therefore to London to celebrate it with her he spent the majority of the weekend playing with her crazy brood.

He did manage to get out of uncle duties for Sunday night and escorted TCO to Katie Melua's end of tour concert and party at the Royal Albert Hall. The Walking service is a new string to his bow and we doubt likely to be taken up by many other young ladies but TCO seemed tolerably satisified with his company albeit her camper friends spent the night encouraging him to have an affair with her.

It has to be recorded that Katie is so tiny that whenever she picks up an acoustic guitar it looks like she is about to play the cello but as concerts go it was pretty good.

The party whilst sounding glam was far from it in a dingy damp basement at the RAH and not exactly populated by the beautiful people. It comes to a pretty pass when our subject is one of the best catches.