Splattered

The light hadn't even officially turned green at the intersection of 17th and Broadway before an army of overconfident yellow cabs roared past the tiny deathtrap I was attempting to navigate around the city streets.

Another day of decorating. We make progress, but not as much as we'd like. Angus seems especially unenthusiastic.

We drop Owen at his flat and head home. A brief shower later and it's off to Sarah's 50th birthday ceilidh (also celebrating their 25th anniversary, Emma's 21st and Andrew's 18th).

It's not in Broughton Hall as we thought, but in a barn at Rachael Mill Farm. The place is, unsurprisingly, cold and I am underdressed. There are dozens of teenagers, all wearing less than minimal clothing, seemingly unaware of the chill wind that fills the barn every time they leave the door open.

I have the first dance with Claire and then she's off talking to colleagues from the high school. I chat with Rosie & Silke until they decide to go somewhere warmer.

Angus, despite not having any of his crew at the party, wires into whatever intoxicants are made available to him, and chats animatedly with his erstwhile classmates. I head home, alone, and return two hours later to whisk Claire away (and leave a sleeping bag for Angus - who miraculously falls into the house in the early hours of the morning anyway).