Cor blimey governor, what a weekend.
It's not often you get to sleep in a four poster bed in a haunted National Trust mansion. Or go to a black tie dinner being served the very best of food with your friends. Or go clay pigeon shooting and horse riding (OK, maybe I do a lot of horse riding). Or have a party with racing car drivers and sailors.
It was a weekend and a half for my bezzie's new husbands 50th birthday. I have 9 years to get organising one anywhere near as decadent or exciting. But after all the opulence, richness and oil paintings whose eyes follow you around the room, memories of the weekend will be of the people and the laughter.
It was inspiring to meet a bunch of folks who do life, who really grab it and run with it - with what seemed like ease. Where the world is their office and the oceans their playground. It was extraordinary to hear stories so very different to my own but have people listen to my tales of the ginger pony, and my children and life on Sussex soil. We stayed up late spinning yarns learning about the heads of a boat and whistling with maps, we giggled about sea-sick labradoodles with plastic tips on their toenails to save the teak deck, we swapped stories of phosphorescence and Africa, false eyelashes and false nails. No subject was unturned, no person unheard and no bottle of booze unopened.
It took until now to recover - just in time for a new weekend.
Happy Friday one and all x