Something special...

As the first of my wedding anniversaries draws to a close (we had two weddings - one in an office, and one under a tree) I marvel at how much love six people can have for each other without it falling into immoral or illegal territory.  You see, all of the kids made it home on Thursday night to help the husband and me celebrate with a night out. We are forever grateful (and slightly bewildered) that for some reason they seem to enjoy our company, and we were all looking forward to a massive catch up.

A mini bus had been arranged by the two girls, which was meant to collect us at 7.15.  By 7.25, I was starting to panic, and in a frantic call to him, he reassured us that he was 'just three minutes' away.  The three minutes turned into seven, and when he did finally get to us, it was like a Benny Hill sketch (without the scantily dressed nurse)  as we piled on board.  

The driver was a sight to behold.  Cross eyed, vastly overweight and full of tales of derring-do about his Lithuanian girlfriend who wanted him to buy a house for her.  Looking at the photo of her on his screensaver (I was sitting behind him, so had a clear view), I think it highly unlikely that she fell for his witty repartee, preferring instead to focus on the size of his wallet.  But despite his ample behind covering most of the handbrake and three of the gears, we eventually made it to Oxford, after being thrown around like seven eggs in a tumble drier.

First stop was a sushi restaurant, picked solely by me because I knew that everyone liked sushi.  All except me that is, after a particularly violent case of food poisoning involving an out of date meal for one last year.  I shall never look at a piece of sashimi again without breaking out into a cold sweat.  The restaurant I chose served an alternative in the way of duck and chicken kebabs, so I was very happy as was Little Miss Tiny (son number one's girlfriend).  

As well as our four, Little Miss Tiny and Jolly Sock Man, we had a relatively new addition to the fold in the form of daughter number one's chap.  He has something to do with the motor industry, and as Jolly Sock Man said, there really is only one name for him....Del Boy.

After stuffing our faces with unpronounceable, unrecognizable, yet delicious food, we scampered into the trendy cocktail bar next door, where several of our party attempted to drink the bar dry; their attempts only curtailed by the (late) return of the minibus.

Cue the Benny Hill music as we climbed aboard the death trap, and the husband and me fell into bed around 1.45 yesterday morning.

How I managed to stay awake at Binland after four hours' sleep is beyond me, and I was especially relieved that I was sensible enough not to drink.  Unlike everyone else who HAD THE DAY OFF YESTERDAY.

It's a wonderful thing though, spending precious time with your children who have grown into fantastic adults.

The husband and I must have done something right...