Around March this year I bought, on impulse, a hat. Then I texted Boxer Girl and said, "I've bought a hat! Hope you're having a Melbourne Cup do because I've got a hat to wear!"
I wasn't too worried about imposing on my friend. She may grizzle about having 175 people round to her abode for causal nibbles but that's just to disguise how much she enjoys organising a knees up. A few weeks ago I was feeling rather pleased to have been invited to her friend One-Eye's 50th, which Boxer Girl had insisted on hosting.
"Hey, are you having a Melbourne Cup bash this year?" I asked her.
"Well, I have to, don't I? You've bought a hat!"
And so it came to pass that cheese and champagne was handed around, the oldies danced in a conga line, and Canned Ham did overindulge and overdivulge. I was sober; it was a harsh scene.