Terribly Strange

Huh?  What’s going on?   This place looks different.  That table doesn’t belong there, and that sofa’s crossed the room east to west … how come my maracas and tambourine are on the floor? The bathroom window really shouldn’t be open … and who brought all these empty bottles and half-filled glasses into my house and garden?  I sit down, on something.  After a while, it starts to come back.  Oh yeah, it was my birthday yesterday.

My brother-in-law, who’s an accountant, wrote in their card “have a good 70th year!”  This level of numeracy, if replicated across the field of accountancy, could explain a lot;  but I’ll settle for the bonus.  I am, of course, now in my 71^st year.  How does it feel, you ask?  Well, not too bad so far, considering.

Seriously (Ed: wha?), it was a fabulous party, and to anyone who was here and reads this, thank you, thank you.   Actually, the same to anyone who was here and doesn’t read this.  And to anyone who wasn’t here and … you get my drift.  A few unanswered questions:

How come only 22 of the 30 bottles of Pelorus got consumed?

And how come somebody complained, about 1 a.m., that we’d run out of Pelorus?

Why didn’t I anticipate the demand for lager amongst the younger generation?  (Ed: Who knew?)

Where is the magic playlist that will provoke instant and perpetual dancing by all ages, tastes and capabilities?  Apple, get on it!  But thank you Tracey for getting pretty close.

Somebody left 55p, 50 on the patio and 5 on the sideboard.  They are welcome to come and claim it (Ed: please bring proof of ownership), otherwise I shall assume it’s a tip.

Pictures might follow, but I’m not promising until the legal team have pronounced.