There's gold in them there hills
When the most exciting thing to happen in the village this week is a car going the wrong way up the one-way street, a Gold Party at Lady Friend's is a must. It is circled in red on the calendar. Lady Friend, she of the Jimmy Choos in the recycling bin and stacks of champagne in the fridge, has asked us to take along any old bits of jewellery we no longer want. A gold expert will weigh it and then offer us a fair price. We can enjoy a glass of wine, nibbles, a natter and buy costume jewellery made by a very talented young lady from Axminster. I don't get invited to things like this very often. Never been a girlie girl, never been a lady who lunches, always too busy working. So I ransack the bedroom to find very little gold, apart from a Jersey milk bottle top, a pair of Monsoon bikini bottoms and an old bracelet from Argos. The doorbell rings and I leave a grumbling Mr Grigg at home (how hard can it be to warm up last night's risotto?) to be accompanied by Ladies in Linen ...