Last night’s party was in a 1952 military tent. There were comedy sketches, a man dressed as Yoko Ono. A lady played the accordian beautifully. The knife thrower was good, but nowhere near as good as the sand dancers. A bit like this.
And then loo breaks across a pitch black field, aided by the glow of a mobile phone. Fab party.
Bridal bouquet of cerise mokara orchids, and more of those piano freil roses, mixed with amalia. And the bride was tickled pink.
Sunday lunch was here. And Mrs F bought a rather lovely book. So I’m kinda hoping for some hand knitted socks for Christmas. Buttons where also purchased for the new cardigan. Don’t you just love Sunday’s?