It's been a while since I got the opportunity to sit in front of the steam-driven laptop and pour forth some meaningless drivel. Hence this ancient news of some of Millbrook's glitterati assembling last weekend in truly glamorous surroundings.
After one or two glasses of hooch the the film club before (now we're really stretching back into the mists of time), Slocombe invited us all to enjoy a party in his shed.
Ok - nothing ventured, and all that - "good idea" we chorused as one and the date was duly set.
Needless to say all of us (probably including Slocombe) suffered a mildly alcohol-induced memory lapse and on the morning of the appointed day, Slocombe appeared at Millbrooker Towers to see if he'd invited us. I hurriedly, and slightly shame-facedly, remembered that he had and so the arrangement was reaffirmed.
Fast-forward to that evening and the first guests (that'll be Mrs The MIllbrooker and me, then) arrived at Slocombe's Shed. And what a shed - note the original Georgian sash window salvaged from someone who thought their house would look better with plastic double glazed shite in the window aperture. Fools.
The small palace of delights at the bottom of Slocombe's garden even has its own garderobe.
Slocombe buzzed back and forth to his minor mansion at the top end of the estate making sure there were glasses and other essentials...
...but was eventually allowed to sit down and enjoy the odd sip or two of Millbrooker Towers home made hooch after Dong and Shazzerooneypoos arrived.
This made a small, but very select, gathering. Indeed it rather resembled film club. Without a film. And in a shed. In all other ways: copious quantities of toxic liquid and a generous splashing of pure hot air and lots of utter nonsense - it was pretty well identical.
Luckily there was no one in the room with a desire to be silly, or that could have spoiled the whole ambiance of the wonderful outbuilding.
I'm not sure whether to be quietly pleased with myself or slightly shamefaced; I have no memory whatever of leaving, nor of getting home, nor of getting to bed. I fear I might have made the hooch a tad too strong. Oops.
Slocombe says he's hoping to repair the shed's old chimney (part of the building used to be a wash-house) and fit a wood burner. When that job's done, I do believe that an excuse for another shed gathering will exist. Huzzah!
Thanks for having us around, Slokes. Looking forward to doing something similar again soon.