Yesterday was my wedding anniversary which we celebrate with cards but not a lot more, so last night we popped round to see friends who have the same anniversary. I Told both of them and they promised their support, which was kind. They asked how my husband will cope, but he just laughed as he is the chief cook in our house and we would all starve before he does. (There was a whistful sigh from the corner as the wife asked if he'd consider giving lessons).
Today I also Told a local seamstress, in the hope of enlisting her help at the Swish Party, but grandchildren seem to be the priority at the moment so I need to look elsewhere.
It was then time to take the boys off to our dentist, who is lovely but rather far away and the journey is long. As a Good Friend, she has already been Told, but whilst in the dentist's chair I managed to Tell the nurse, who it turns out has used homoeopathy with her own children, so was very interested in the project.
We then took our dentist for lunch in a pub where, as it's holiday time, she indulged in the novelty of buying the boys a beer (they've been too young before). This was fine until it came to the long journey home; whilst we were stationary in one of those interminable motorway queues the eldest piped up how he sometimes loves the advantages of being a boy before nipping out behind a bush for a quick pee. It seems this triggered off a frenzy of activity from other male drivers, until the final chap began racing frantically back as he had seen the traffic moving off and his van was slowly being left behind. I did feel kind of envious, until I remembered that not being a boy, I don't drink pints of beer, so don't have the same problem.
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