Party Burgers

Somebody must have told those pigs that we were having a barbecue; either that or they had heard that the happy farmer was making his own homemade pork and apple burgers! Whatever, on the day of the party those pigs were not for hanging around; they kept getting out and going AWOL. First time was when I got a phone call from one of our friends who had just come off the morning ferry to say he was stood in the pouring rain in our yard with two pigs chasing around, squealing like mad. The poor lady who was doing the cottage changeovers was hiding in the doorway of the cottage, too terrified to come out. From my previous encounters, and now that I am confident that those piggys won’t eat my legs, I coolly and confidently walked over and herded those pigs into the ponies’ field. The pigs immediately began to chase the horses causing even more excitement, I think even the animals were getting ready to party!

Of course the happy farmer managed to get the pigs back into their ‘home’, only to get a phone call, just as people were due to start arriving to say those piggys were on the loose again, this time they had gone off down to the main road. He duly went and reclaimed them and put them in a more secure area, personally I think those pigs were afraid that the party might get in the way of them getting a mention in this blog, talk about stealing the limelight!

I had an absolute ball at the party. The house was heaving, as over 40 friends and family boogied, ate, drank, and sang. The ‘burger bar’, aka the happy farmer in his horse box, or my new sun lounge as I was referring to it, was a huge success, as people huddled in out of the rain, watching the happy farmer cook, sing, dance and clatter those barbie tongs. The house was jumping. At midnight everyone sang ‘happy birthday’, and I was given a candelabra to blow out, and was just about to burst into tears at the thought of being 40, when my brother enveloped me in a huge bear hug. My friend Sheena, who has a fantastic voice, she sings at the jazz festival and has a CD out to raise funds for cystic fibrosis, sang me a beautiful Gaelic song, followed by a couple of blues numbers, as everyone, clapped and swayed to her beautiful voice, and the party continued long after the children had gone off to bed or been collected by babysitters, well into the ‘wee small hours’, as we laughed, sang, shrieked, hugged, fought over music, and generally had a good old time.

Sunday morning arrived, and the happy farmer presented me with a gorgeous little package, inside was a lovely ring box, and as I opened it, there shone a lovely polo mint, in true happy farmer style. I didn’t even get to try it on as eldest daughter’s hand shot out and ate it before I got a chance! Later as he cooked mounds of eggs and bacon, as bleary eyed people surfaced for breakfast from various corners of the farm, he slipped a beautiful new ring onto my finger. He even wore the slim fit, pink stripy shirt I had bought him specially for the party, having given up coffee for several weeks to fit into it, and also so I would stop referring to him as the happy fatty farmer, and even though his daughters are mortified that he should dare to wear pink, and even though he is always a jeans and tee shirt person. Bless him!

Until next time….