It’s all a bit of a whirlwind lately. Here I am just about to tell you all about Boofuls’ birthday on 4th July and it’s nearly August!
They weren’t fibbing when they told us July and August were busy, busy months, our feet haven’t touched the floor for weeks!
Anyway, without further ado…
The birthday bash.
Since it was Boofuls’ birthday it seemed a good idea to invite some of the local hoteliers around for a few drinkies and to make a few new friends. Invitations were sent out and every single person accepted. In our wisdom we thought that we’d make it an afternoon ‘do’ as it was a hoteliers school night and we all had to be up early the next morning.
What on earth was I thinking? This lot can party like there’s no tomorrow.
The sun shone, the patio was decorated with tubs of flowers and umbrella’d tables. It all looked lovely. One by one the guests turned up – heavily laden with bottles of champagne, prosecco, wine, beer and cider. Why oh why did we buy so much booze? They all brought enough to sink a battleship.
Or so I thought.
As the afternoon wore on I realised that everyone except me had drunk their own weight in alcohol. I’d decided several days earlier that I’d be staying on the wagon for this one. One of us needed a clear head in the morning. I was glad I stood by my decision. Fair to say that Boofuls had a great time.
There was much ribaldry, banter and laughter, the wine flowed like water.
One woman had to be carried home and half an hour later so did her husband. they run a five star establishment round the corner. I’m absolutely sure they managed to get a decent breakfast out to their guests as they are consummate professionals but I’m also pretty sure they would have gone straight back to bed after.
The afternoon turned into evening, the music played, the conversation flowed as easily as the wine and a great time was had by all. As the evening came to a close, Boofuls and I were sitting in the bar with a couple of German guests having a conversation via Google translate – which was hysterically funny.
Just after the clock struck 11.00 pm two other guests walked into the bar. Two middle aged, knocking on the door of elderly, ladies who had been competing in a bridge tournament. I’m going to call them Strident and Curly.
Strident burst through the bar door; “Where’s the party? We know there’s a party, we saw it from our bedroom window. Where is it? HAVE WE MISSED IT? Oh Blahddy hell! Never mind. Get me drink!”
Clearly three sheets to the wind, I think it’s fair to say they’d also been partying.
The Germans looked at me unnerved by the somewhat wild and dishevelled looking woman shouting at me and staggering across the room.
Curly, waddled unsteadily behind her on her chubby, inebriated legs, collapsed on the sofa, and in a manner amazingly like Patsy Stone from Ab Fab, leaned off the chair arm, almost sliding to the floor and said wearily, “Gi’ ‘n’ tonc, Dahling’.
“I’m sorry ladies. It’s gone eleven, I can’t serve you.”
Strident answered, “Don’t be ridiculous. It’s only us, no one will know. Just get us a drink!”
“Sorry ladies, can’t do it, we are only licensed till eleven.”
“Well don’t sell it to me, then just GIVE me the blahddy drink” announced Strident stridently.
Once again I refused to serve them, at which point they took great umbrage, got unsteadily to their feet and declared; “Oh, we might as well just go to Blahddy bed then, THEY’VE (the Germans) have got a drink! So unfair!” They staggered angrily out of the bar.
The Germans, who’d managed to get the gist of what was happening, and we ignored the complaining as it faded into the distance and carried on with our chat.
Before too long we trotted off to bed ready for a bright and early start the next morning to prepare breakfast for all of our lovely guests. Funnily enough, two of them didn’t make it down for breakfast. I wonder why?