Last weekend, husband's extended family spent the weekend in Somerset. His brother and his wife and the dog stayed with us, his parents and Granny in the upmarket B&B across the road and his aunt and uncle in their campervan. 9 of us sat round the table above for supper on Saturday, 7 of us went to see Germaine Greer speak on Saturday evening, 6 of us drank wine whilst engaging in *ahem* discussions about what she said (and how she flung herself at my husband afterwards), 4 of us stayed up drinking until the early hours, 8 of us walked 4 miles along the coast and picked hoardes of blackberries in soothing golden September sunshine, 9 of us ate lunch outside in the garden whilst drinking lots of champagne in sunshine that was so hot that hats were handed out, 7 of us had afternoon tea on the harbour front, another bottle of champagne watching the sun go down on the deck of said B&B and then the same 7 had a kitchen supper back at our flat. Husband cooked 7 kilos of sirloin steak. I made savoury muffins and cupcakes and soups and salads and coffee and everyone ate everything. It was busy, it was full and it was wonderful.
It's a little quiet now though.
