Come on baby, light my fire
The sound of ladders being extended against stone walls fills the square this morning as the bunting is taken down from The Enchanted Village. It coincides with a lull in the football, a realisation that England will not win the World Cup, no matter how many times Mr Grigg wears his football shirt without washing it in between matches. Last night, my blog characters did a little conga through the night. At a party to celebrate three 55th birthdays and a 65th, the hall was full of people eating, drinking and dancing to a very well thought-out playlist. There was Posh Totty strutting to Uptown Girl , Jamie Lee sashaying to Lady Gaga and Mr Sheepwash sliding around the floor in sandals. I was feeling rather delicate after an excess of wine the night before but got into my stride by the time Mambo Number Five blared through the speakers. All day, I had avoided being sick but that very nearly changed when the nauseating Lady in Red came on at the end. As we sat outside in the balmy...