As it happens, I've never cooked for 150 people before. All at once. But my cousin, Covergirl, is having her engagement party this weekend and Bezley & I and my aunt, Raggedy Ann, have all been roped in to help with the catering. I'm doing mini pizzas and chocolates and god knows what else. I'd better check that list of things I shot off my big stupid mouth about.
Grumpy, like most men, is kicking up his heels with delight at the thought of going to an engagement party. "Oh frabjous day!" he cried, when I showed him the invite. "May I buy a new party frock, dear wifey?" And, on top of that, it's on the night of the western derby. However, Covergirl's future mother-in-law is a practical woman, and the garage has been set aside for the blokes for the evening, complete with TV and well-stocked beer fridge. And, here's hoping, salty snacks.
I take it that means I'm the designated driver.
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