Best friend...

Well, ladies.  I survived my best friend's 50th birthday party, and a sleepover with Miss R and Woody.  Fetch me a gin and tonic as a reward...

Friday was a bit of a whirlwind after leaving Binland, as Mrs S who had previously told me that she had no use for me and any help I could proffer, changed her mind around 2.37pm.  By 2.51pm, she had me lugging an old sofa out to the garage, and carrying in box after box of alcohol back into the house.  Booze in, the question then turned to lighting.  Did she have enough fairy lights to create the right ambiance?  This would be the one which emits a soft light, thus reducing the odds of someone taking a look at my Sharpei face and offering me the use of their steam iron for the weekend. 

After some switching on and off, the decision was made that there weren't enough, so I raced back to my house to scavenge through my Christmas lights to find some battery operated ones.  On the way out, I grabbed hold of the large fairy light heart I have in my kitchen, and armed with battery operated flickering candles, string lights and spare batteries (always prepared) I hared back to Mrs S.

By the time I finished in her lounge, I was thinking of doling out sunglasses to the guests as they came through the front door, but Mrs S was thrilled.  But not as thrilled as she was with the heart.  This was given pride of place in the kitchen and there were many admiring glances as we positioned it just so.  Having then plated up all the food it was back home to get ready for the party.

And what a party it was.  Great people, fantastic food, a cake and enough Prosecco to knock Miss R off her feet at around 9.30.

We eventually crawled out of the front door at 12.30, too drunk/knackered to worry about the lighting left behind, and around two of us remember getting back home.  Enough said...

So yesterday, Mrs S came here while I was out to return all the borrowed goods.  Diving into the large shopping bag, I pulled out the fairy lights, candles, a couple of bottles of wine and a rather large slab of birthday cake which had survived her labradoodle and his rampant desire for anything sponge-like.

It wasn't till I was sitting down last night, watching deluded numpties thinking that our Queen would sit through their performance involving stacked heels and poor jokes, that I realised that my heart hadn't been returned with the other stuff.

Obviously, it is still hanging in its new home.

And to think she thought that I would have been distracted by that bloody great slab of cake.

It almost worked Mrs S....