Yesterday was the first bbq of the year (thanks Sam and Rebecca for the excellent hospitality and the endless flow of wine which means this blog is going to take much reading through to correct the equally endless typos from from nerveless fingers).
We'd been promised highs of 29C if you believed Google (which I didn't, choosing instead to take the average of the the 3 (or is it 4?) weather websites which I consult, thinking that 22C seemed OK to me) but it was a beautiful April, early summer, warm day, not blasting heat, but warm enough to sit out and chat without shivering and needing to ask if you can borrow a cardi!
We were 1; adults only just outnumbering the kids, & 2 dogs (both of whom had been thoroughly walked around the woods so that they wouldn't act like hoodlums from the off, by yours truly)
What can be better than a Sunday afternoon spent in the company of friends with whom you can banter and pass abuse (as the English do so well) with the alcohol flowing and the food in plentiful supply)? I'll tell you what - a Saturday afternoon which would mean we wouldn't have the Monday morning hanging over us and so could linger, amongst friends and wine until we're being bitten to pieces by the midges and the mozzies and the kids are falling asleep...ho hum, it's the 1st of hopefully many bbq's of summer '10!
With 4-5 hours worth of alcohol flow there's going to be a lot of banter;
- there was the pole dancing story, at an engineering exhibition no less, go figure
- too many cricketing & footballing stories by far - they would stop when they realised that Rebecca & my eyes were glazing over
- the new knife throwing thing that seems to be taking over from the softair craze, joy
- the volcanic ash keeping Ian from his home for 3 weeks and just how long the grass would be when he finally makes it back to Leeds next weekend
- how the thrill of being driven around the Nuerburgring by a pro driver compares to a helicopter ride around the bottom of Manhattan
- how the customer of a customer was bought out of his wedding at Alton Towers by David Beckham (or was it Victoria's influence?) wanting to take over the hotel there for his son's birthday party, for £200,000
- and how one of our nephews refers to his willy as his 'dibber', which caused a large amount of confusion when his grandfather was getting him to help plant sunflower seeds and telling him how you used your dibber to make a hole in the ground to put the seed into...I dread to think what's going to happen when he joins the cub scouts and learns to 'dib, dib, dib'...snigger