We spent a few very jolly hours down at the local pub last night. It was so good to meet up with friends for a few hours of fun and merriment. It can be difficult getting Max out of the house, especially on dark, wet and windy nights - but he had to agree that he'd really enjoyed the evening.
Dominic and Andy were in fine form and the jokes and laughter kept coming. This rural backwater would be a very dull place without their input.
It was the Grand Christmas Draw - an annual event of enormous proportions which really draws in the crowds and keeps our landlord on his toes serving drinks as his wife and daughter organised the prize distribution. Family run pubs mean a lot of hard work for the family!
It was a lovely evening, I'm glad we went.
I'm glad that I stuck to soda and lime because we are heading out early, to the local Farmers Market. I also plan to drop off a few bags of books, shoes and clothes to the local charity shops. My never-ending quest to reduce clutter and thin out the racks in the dressing room continues.
Earlier in the week our son-in-law was presented with two dead pheasants and three sticks of brussels sprouts. The sprouts were eagerly accepted and shared, the pheasants were politely declined. (Son-in-law was forced to eat a lot of pheasant as a boy. It is interesting to see how he never insists that his children should eat things they really don't like, he was re-served the same meal again and again until he ate it. He won't inflict that on Hector and Merry.)
It reminded me of those days long ago, when I lived up in the Western Isles. Occasionally we would get up in the morning to find a whole salmon on the doorstep. The local poacher had had a successful night and was sharing his bounty.
What made it so funny was that my mother really didn't like fresh salmon, she much preferred tinned, so the fresh ones were always turned into fishcakes, hundreds of them because the salmon were always enormous!