That was a nice weekend ...

The posh frock do on saturday night went well, I was on orange juice all night as usual but at least it was the fresh stuff and not out of a bottle.so the headache on sunday wasn't that bad.

Within 15 minutes the format for the night had been well established, women all sat around in a circle, men all stood at the bar, and thats how it stayed until we went home at 1.30am, apart from the bit where we were all invited out onto the verandha to freeze our cobblers off while we watched and laughed as Chris set fire to £500 worth of fireworks.

The posh and ritzy golf club was just as I expected it to be, lots of pictures of past presidents in the entrance all bearing a remarkable likeness to Mr Cholmondley-Warner, rules everywhere, no-one allowed to use the club presidents chair, all the stuff that I hate about private members golf clubs, no wonder I gave up my membership at my club two years ago, it must be just me who feels an overwhelming need to park in the Presidents car park spot every time I drive into any club car park, even better if you're driving an old car or a scruffy van at the time.

Our 25th wedding anniversary will be coming around in two years time - it won't be held at a golf club and it won't involve vast expenditure either, guests may get to share a small and inexpensive firework (one between two) and dine on peanuts and crisps, money will be prefered in leiu of corny silver-based presents, but before then its my 50th birthday in September to sort out, I may just opt out of a party and get them to post money in an envelope instead.