Miraculously, everyone arrived on time last night (Wee John and Karen were actually early) and all went swimmingly. Too swimmingly. Indeed, you could have managed a decent backstroke in the amount of alcohol we drunk.
But we soldier on and, in a few hours from now, Vanessa and I will head to Manchester to see Coldplay in concert. Can't wait.
Meanwhile, Jamie is having a whale of a time. John and Karen have already showered him with gifts and attention - although the food on their plates is, as always, of greatest interest to him - and tonight they will undoubtedly have their hands full on the babysitting front. Still, they did volunteer (ho! ho!)
UPDATE 1602: Oh dear. Prior to last night, I'd only met Karen once - whilst we were in Cardiff for the cricket. It was therefore something of an embarrassment when, over lunch today, she let slip - well, John announced gleefully - that she'd seen me at around 3 o'clock this morning during an aborted visit to the loo.
I was asleep. On the loo. With my trousers around my ankles.
Are second impressions more important than first impressions? (assuming her first impression of me was reasonably positive). I can only hope not. Equally, I can also only hope that, one day, I will live this down. But, as it stands, that seems unlikely.
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