Saturday night's all right for not fighting

Well, there was no show-down at the Lord of the Manor's Christmas hooley on Saturday night, namely because the Geordies decided not to show up, and (according to whispered gossip, heard over tilted beer bottles on Saturday night) it was the Lord's son who was the gun-toting, trigger-happy culprit behind the whole drama.

It turned out to be a great night, and at one point there was well over 60 people milling about on the Lord's back deck, mingling and mixing and comparing stories on the Economic Crisis and the Downturn of the Economy, and 20 kids bombing in and out of their pool, all of them with blue lips and chattering teeth as there was a rather nippy breeze ducking over the back fence - not quite a balmy summer's evening.

All the adults were wearing "Hi, my name is" stickers with our names and addresses on so we could meet new and exciting people without having to be introduced, and I met several of whom I cannot recall the name of but I am sure they were very nice.

It was lucky for Craig (a newly employed farmhand who lives about 5km further down the road from the Lord's) that he was wearing his sticker when he was found weaving along the road shortly after 1am by Mr Perry (Chairman of the Neighbourhood Watch Support Group) as had absolutely no idea where he lived.

Anyway, the Other Harf and I have decided that if I do find myself another job quick smartish that we will seriously consider getting a (cheap and cheerful Para-type) pool this summer.

It would be worth every cent to replicate that dirty great big grin on Miss 8.3's face as she bombed and splashed and jumped and yelled.