So did it rain, then?
Blimey, is it summer elsewhere in the world? Certainly not here again. Yes, you guessed it, RAIN, RAIN, RAIN and more RAIN. I went to get my snow tyres taken off last week. I’m wondering why...
So, was it sunny for the famous party? Well…..erm, no. Oh, c’mon, whaddya expect?! BUT, I can reveal that, given the weather we’d had before and the weather we’ve had since (i.e crap) it is a minor miracle that it didn’t rain. It was even vaguely warm (don’t get excited, now, I said ‘vaguely’). Let’s say it was warm enough for the kids to arrive, rush around like flies on speed and get sufficiently hot and bothered to demand the water slide be unravelled and pegged out so they could don their cozzies and throw themselves on to it with the sort of gay abandon that only a bunch of party-crazed children can do.
So, dear reader, I think we can conclude that it was a success. And that we were very lucky. It was mainly grey, with the odd burst of sunshine to give the merest hint that it was actually high summer. There were a few spots of rain which meant a sudden burst of activity from the adults to erect the borrowed gazebo – and, of course, like umbrellas, the moment it was up, the rain stopped. Fair enough. It was a good preventative at least.
The main thing was, they were able to charge around the garden, not my house. Phew. Everyone got wet and grubby. Great! That’s what kids should do.
I had suggested to Mein Fuhrer (aka N) that we put signs up in the village to direct people to the right place. ‘Nah,’ he says with utter confidence and in that ‘Don’t even THINK about it!’ sort of way that he does. Waste o’time. My instincts told me otherwise and, inevitably, everyone’s posh SatNavs sent them up to some long-suffering farmer who, at least, was faintly amused to see all these smart Cheshire 4x4’s actually being put to some proper use on the devilishly rutted farm track. Of course Muggins here not only had to bow and scrape apologies to the hot and bothered parents (having to take your kid to a party on a Sunday is bad enough without getting lost, arriving late and trashing your vehicle for good measure) but then had to make a special phonecall to the farmer the next day to apologise for ruining his Day of Rest too. Sigh.
PS: why do I listen to my husband? Answers on a postcard please…
So, was it sunny for the famous party? Well…..erm, no. Oh, c’mon, whaddya expect?! BUT, I can reveal that, given the weather we’d had before and the weather we’ve had since (i.e crap) it is a minor miracle that it didn’t rain. It was even vaguely warm (don’t get excited, now, I said ‘vaguely’). Let’s say it was warm enough for the kids to arrive, rush around like flies on speed and get sufficiently hot and bothered to demand the water slide be unravelled and pegged out so they could don their cozzies and throw themselves on to it with the sort of gay abandon that only a bunch of party-crazed children can do.
So, dear reader, I think we can conclude that it was a success. And that we were very lucky. It was mainly grey, with the odd burst of sunshine to give the merest hint that it was actually high summer. There were a few spots of rain which meant a sudden burst of activity from the adults to erect the borrowed gazebo – and, of course, like umbrellas, the moment it was up, the rain stopped. Fair enough. It was a good preventative at least.
The main thing was, they were able to charge around the garden, not my house. Phew. Everyone got wet and grubby. Great! That’s what kids should do.
I had suggested to Mein Fuhrer (aka N) that we put signs up in the village to direct people to the right place. ‘Nah,’ he says with utter confidence and in that ‘Don’t even THINK about it!’ sort of way that he does. Waste o’time. My instincts told me otherwise and, inevitably, everyone’s posh SatNavs sent them up to some long-suffering farmer who, at least, was faintly amused to see all these smart Cheshire 4x4’s actually being put to some proper use on the devilishly rutted farm track. Of course Muggins here not only had to bow and scrape apologies to the hot and bothered parents (having to take your kid to a party on a Sunday is bad enough without getting lost, arriving late and trashing your vehicle for good measure) but then had to make a special phonecall to the farmer the next day to apologise for ruining his Day of Rest too. Sigh.
PS: why do I listen to my husband? Answers on a postcard please…
Comments
But hey, it's going to get better next week, they say.
I keep watching the Tour de France - it passed through Grand Bornand yesterday where for a number of years we spent the summer - not a cloud! Grrrrr...
I take it this was a kid's party? Glad it went went well. And who on Earth said you had to listen to the male of the species? Mind you, he doesn't listen to me either and still we get on extremely well.
Shropshire is another beautiful county, with gorgeous scenery; but does it rain? Oh yes, it does.
Sounds like a jolly day and good of the rain to mostly stay away.
CKx