This weekend we celebrated my sister's 50th birthday. Shortly before we went out for lunch I developed a nosebleed and got blood all down the front of the only smart shirt that I had packed. My sister, something of a domestic goddess, instantly started to wash the blood out from the shirt. Her boyfriend, an acupuncturist, said that he could help to stop the bleeding. When the rest of the guests arrived, wearing their Sunday best, I was shirtless and barefoot, clutching a bloody handkerchief to my nose, and sporting a hedgehog of needles in my left foot.
Much later that day, after the pubs and shops had shut, everyone was still thirsty. We had drunk everything in the house. The wine was finished, the lager was finished, the bitter was finished, we'd even drunk all the damson vodka (it was like cough-mixture). There wasn't a drop of alcohol anywhere - except for one of her birthday presents which was a whole case of champagne.
Richard "Grand Cru" B