Bonfire Night Irish Style

At lunchtime on Sunday 24^th we bad farewell to our house guests after a very successful 'bonfire night' (BfN is 23rd June, St John's Eve in The Republic of Ireland where they don't really go in for those nasty UK celebrations of toasted Catholics on Nov 5th, can't think why...). The Silverwoods arrived minus one niece (Em-J in Paris on exchange visit) but plus Lily and the seven pups in a crate. The pups are 3 weeks old now and very cute and, because we hope to end up with one of same Mum and Dad were very pleased that they were the source of much delighted, happy, fascinated sniffing for Coco and I.

 Mum cooked a superb chicken dinner. Dad had decided in the shop that the organic Free Range birdie he had been sent out to buy looked a bit light for feeding 7, so he'd supplemented with half a dozen wings and drumsticks. The kids were much amused by counting how many 'limbs' the evening roast appeared to have!

The bonfire, when we tried to light it, was good and wet, so took a time to get going but eventually blazed away. The kids amused themselves running back and forth from caravan (now officially adopted as their 'den'), helping dig out the horse-drawn-hay-rake-in-a-hedge, or chuck more wood on the fire. Nephew M (6) has been a bit anxious / alarmed / paranoid about fire since the Silverwoods had a bit of a drama in the house recently where the flu from a badly installed range started a minor house fire in a stud wall behind the range, so Mrs S was very pleased that he seems to be quite relaxed near the bonfire. 

 We retreated to bed at gone midnight Saturday and nobody was that keen to get up on the Sunday. Dad, Coco and I were all on our own rousting chickens and rabbits out of their scratchers. Eventually the guests and hostess stirred and Mum laid on porridge for the 'smalls' and then an Irish Fry for the rest of the humans. It was a lazy morning with occasional excitement for 'smalls' as the Lovely Girls managed to produce 4 eggs, and all in the proper place. 

 Our guests departed midday leaving Dad to a bit of lawn mowing and filling raised beds with soil and Mum to restoring house to 'between-guests' format. Mum and Dad discovered that our new concrete apron, being due west facing, makes a very nice 'sun-deck' from which to watch the sun sink over the galvanized farm gate and the Charolais cows, while sipping rosé. They are going to buy a French stylee café table and chairs.

And so to bed.

Deefs