Well, Ladies afternoon really. Today was the day when my sister, Sue, had her annual birthday lunch for her girlfriends. I am lucky to be asked along and we are all lucky because Sue always serves up a stunning meal with nominal help from an increasingly raucous bunch. As early evening arrives so do husbands, partners and adult children ready to escort revellers home. Mine turned up in his bike lycra and slippers, not a look.
Its always a special gathering, with a great deal of sharing. There is something very powerful about a group of women with considerable life experience getting together to joke about juggling children, elderly parents and jobs. We ponder mysteries like, 'Why do men go up and down stairs without taking stuff with them?' and "How does a young chap keep his jeans up, once they have cleared his arse"? Having woken up this morning with a very, very sore throat, I was not feeling my best. So the pink sparkling wine I drank all afternoon, washed down with Lemsip extra strong led to a particularly lively account of our Isle of White camping holiday, brought to a premature close by the insomnia inducing New Forest Monkey Spankers!?
We became our own episode of Grumpy Old Women, laughing until we cried.
Twittering came up, as I tried to recruit the uninitiated, during which time I responded to Peter Wanless of the Big Lottery, who on reading today's standard asked if I was the 'aristocrat' Lord Wei was off to see in Lambeth to discuss social enterprise? Nope, that's not me and anyway I was in Kingston having a hell of a giggle.
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