Wednesday, October 05, 2005

At most parties it is the kids that are banished outside while the parents enjoy the comfy delights of the sofas. Not so at my house on Friday night. The boys ( I use this term somewhat loosely as most of them were taller than the few dads who had come along and certainly could have grown more impressive beards overnight) all sat around the lounge playing games on the console, teaching their Aussie guests a few favourite folk songs ( Alouette being amongst them) and administering large quantities of lager, while we all sat out the back in the conservatory.

Fortunately I have incredibly understanding neighbours who didn't mind the fact that Teenage Kicks could be heard over quarter of a mile away. Well, it's not like I do it every weekend after all ( I'm already planning my Christmas Bash so I might have to extend the invitation to them next time).

The weekend was brilliant. Our guests loved the cultural activites we had laid on for them besides the beer and curry night at mine which had kicked off the proceedings - paintballing, football ( we lost but I don't think they noticed) and bowling. St Paul's Manly, North Sydney thrashed us spectacularly on Sunday but it was all so well executed and the sun was shining so no-one seemed to mind. Martian did a sterling job with the reffing but dashed off home to inspect his lawn for sabotage, trim his hedge and find things to paint ( if I didn't know any better, I'd think he had a nesting instinct) so he missed the awesome Colts game and the chance to see one or two future Australian Internationals in the making ( One to Watch Out for: Selesi Manu)

A white van man had clipped my wing mirror on Friday night causing it to shatter. I didn't think too much more about it what with all the hosting over the weekend. I didn't give too much thought to the apparent seepage coming from under the manhole in my backyard either but mentioned it in passing to my Dad on Monday morning. A brief inspection last night revealed the full extent of the damage to my drains. Fortunately Dad has his own rods. It's a long time since he's had to use all 32 to unblock a drain ( it was solid right up to the road).

This morning my boiler decided to pack up leaving Jack unable to shower and me unable to wash my minging hair either. I called Dad, rushed into the hairdressers' on the way to work for an emergency blow-dry and hoped to goodness that it's true what they say about things coming in Threes.

Tonight my heating appears to be working, my sink is emptying and my fingers are staying crossed.

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