Despite the previous night's extraordinary feats of gastronomy, gourmandery and inebriacy (is that a word?), I managed to slither out of bed on Sunday morning and, moaning gently to myself, stand forlornly under the shower before Mrs The Millbrooker (who was much sprightlier having sensibly stopped drinking some time before me at Safari Supper) drove us to Plymouth.
The reason for dragging my aching carcass into the shockingly, appallingly BRIGHT sunshine was to take ourselves off to Boringdon Hall in Plympton to join YarMatt's extended family for a slap-up lunch to mark Cannonball Pam's turning of the decade; she's now in her eighth, which makes her a comfortable seven years old by the Daily(ish) Millbrook formula.
Here's YarMatt, Dozybean and Intoeverythingsworth approaching the grand entrance to Boringdon Hall.
The tribal throng was gathering in one of the Hall's bars and we were warmly greeted by YarMatt's dad, Lester and the lady-of-the-day herself. Lester kindly sponsored a hair-of-the-dog pint of Bass for yours truly. It did actually work; I felt considerably better after a couple of slurps.
'Ere long, we were led through to another room, laid out for umpteen people to munch their way through Cannonball Pam and Lester's hard earned savings.
Our hosts had kindly put up a photo board giving a potted history of Cannonball Pam through-the-ages. This is an early portrait. Altogether now....one, two, three..."aahhh".
As is the way with such events, when smaller people are involved, things got pretty informal pretty quickly. YarMatt's bro'-in-law, Harvey, was to be found by checking the floor. As was YarMatt. Sitting in more conventional fashion is Jo (YarMatt's cousin) who travelled all the way from Hayward's Heath to be there. The young fellow with his leg in the air hadn't (to the best of my knowledge) been on the sauce; it's George, Harvey's lad. Do try to keep up - or at least show some fellow feeling; I was trying to keep up with introductions through the self inflicted aftermath of the previous night.
During puds, Cannonball Pam herself made the voyage around our table and chatted with Chris and Derek (YarMatt's uncle and aunt) who had the dubious honour of being seated next to a certain Millbrooker. Here she is 'twixt the aforementioned relatives.
Meanwhile a little mischievous fellow who might be closely related to this branch of the family had discovered that he really, really liked balloons.
Often the only way to work out where Intoeverythingsworth was, was by looking for the seemingly self-propelling bunch of helium filled balloons running around the room.
The wee fellow also kindly gave me a new hat for the occasion...
...which I equally kindly lent to YarMatt.
After a bit of rabble-rousing speechifying, the cake was ceremonially operated upon by Chief Cake Surgeon, Cannonball Pam; watched by (in shot) Tom (Harvey's other lad - are you paying attention, there'll be questions later). And not watched (at least in this shot) by Rebecca, YarMatt's sis (and therefore - Cannonball Pam's daughter), who seemed to prefer tickling her nose with a tall flower arrangement.
There were, of course, lots of people to whom I was introduced who haven't got a mention here, mostly because I didn't get an amusing shot of them to make up silly stories around - but it was good to meet you all.
Naturally, Mrs The Millbrooker and I owe a huge thank you to Cannonball Pam and Lester for inviting us to join in their celebration. I'm very grateful for the hair-of-the-dog, and the food was great, too.
So - here's wishing Cannonball Pam a very happy birthday, indeed.
As you've managed to get this far - you get the special prize of this link to lots of very exciting photos; some of them have silly captions. You can click on them to see them bigger, too. Ah, the wonders of modern science.
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