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... GUY FAWKES NIGHT Tarquin, put that poppy down! No, you can't send it on a Catherine wheel to re-create the Somme. That would be… insensitive. And I know you are a sensitive boy, deep down. Deep, deep down. Gosh, Firework Night this year was a complete disaster. Giles said we have to ‘economise', what with the international financial crisis. Well, that's just not my thing. Usually, we would have a few close friends around, 50-60 or so, with just a catered finger buffet, mulled wine and a selection of fine fireworks set to classical music for an hour or so. You get a marvellous view from the conservatory, you know. This year, we went to what I believe they refer to as a ‘local authority' display. Well, I must say, it was an utter shambles. There was no wine, cheese or nibbles – and we had to stand in a field getting chilly for nearly an hour. They wouldn't even let poor Tarquin wiggle his sparkler around – little poppet. And the parking! Good Lord, we had to walk for ages to get there, and traipsing back with two tired children was just a nightmare. I've told Giles that next year, we are going back to that small soiree at home – global financial meltdown or no global financial meltdown. If we really have to economise, we can cut back on the caterers, and have a simple spread delivered – our guests will just have to help themselves. And, as if last weekend wasn't enough, we have to go down to see Giles' parents in Hampshire at the weekend, and stand in the rain while they all put wreaths on the village war memorial. Yes, Tarquin, I do know they died for King and country and we should be proud. But I really don't see why we have to stand in the rain to remember them. I'd be more than happy to toast the war dead with a G&T at the Cross Keys in front of the fire. No, not that sort of fire. Tarquin. N0!

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Four -Wheel Drive Woman

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