I hate plans. I am so far down the hate end of the hate planning/love planning spectra that it's yet another section in my freakdom dossier. So when I say 'yes' to an invite, I am happiest if there is wriggle-out space. There's always that with certain friends and certain events but I am aware there isn't with others. (Life's a teacher.)
So we were home after a day wandering round town, a meal in a restaurant and far too long in a bookshop and, quite frankly, a bit tired. What's more it was raining.
We were invited out to Henry's do. Henry used to be the drummer in our band (Klunk) and he's a quirky soul and very likeable. But we were tired and the rain looked annoying and it's not really summer yet - with it's brightness urging us to the outdoors - is it? And Henry's a wriggler himself - so he'd have understood.
So we dithered and teetered on the decision's edge. But then the whole spontaneity thing kicked in - as it usually does - and twenty minutes later we found ourselves driving up a country road with tired kids in the car looking for a place with vague directions - on the part of both issuing and receiving! Eventually, after drawing a few unnecessary patterns on country roads with a little exhaust pollution - we arrived.
And bam. One of those occasions that you were glad you made the effort for.
Wonderful Rachel Long - metal manipulator extraordinaire's barn at the end of a track in the middle of nowhere. Wonderful people to be enjoyed.
It's always good to push for adventure and novelty isn't it.
Apparently Bernard M said this was a bit too 'modern' to grab his interest. Glad he's such a discerning turkey snatcher. ha ha.
P.S. Today is officially 'Brother's Day' as declared by my six year old son.