Raise your glasses !

Last night was the drinks and nibbles event for the local hunt. In truth I don't normally ride out with them and tend to go further afield so as to see some different countryside and people, this also ensures that I don't crap on my own doorstep. That said, I still like to do my bit and support the local bunch of miss-fits and reprobates.
It all went extremely well, Lumpkin turned up, goosed the Huntmaster's wife and then sang her the song from the Finger of Fudge commercial. By this time the master was too drunk to realise what had gone on and his wife asked Lumpkin if there was a second chorus.
Old Pilly came along and was handing out cards to most of the ladies present. He was telling me that his new business is looking up and that he was keen to give the ladies a good, firm deal. Apparently he has even got Slider and Fendtskip working for him part-time. Lord alone knows what service they are providing but no doubt it will involve a supplementary benefit.
Young Dylan popped in from the stable-block and I managed to spend a bit of time chatting to her. She's a rather nice little sort and very witty. She did mention that the Bishop had left her a note, inviting her to evensong. I was diplomatic and implied that maybe she should think long and hard before spending time alone in the company of the Bishop to which she replied that she was fully aware of him and that it is a well known fact that he is (and I quote) "A dirty old bastard with a knicker-sniffing obsession".
I must have missed that in the Parish magazine.

At one point in the evening, my eyes started to sting and I became aware of an awful smell. I then saw that Dusty, the curry scoffing Scot, had fallen asleep in one of the chairs and had obviously been overcome with the indulgence of Burns night earlier in the week. I would imagine the effects of a burnt and crispy Haggis combined with a curry and sprout chaser for breakfast had finally taken it's toll on his knotter. He suddenly woke up and began rambling on like a man possessed.
Not a f*cking word.
Hilly rolled up later in the evening and I must say he looked awful. He reckons that his wife has become unbearable in the last few months and that he would have taken her out with a rifle but she won't sign a life insurance policy. His step-son is becoming just as temporamental and lighter in the heels as each day passes. Apparently he's so light footed now, the other day he stood right on a fresh dog turd, walked indoors on the cream carpet and never left a trace...
One of the local landowners, Rich, rolled up for a quick drink and to show his face. It was good to see him but he couldn't stay long as he had to pick his son up who was on a night out with his friends. It's very nice for a father to run around for his lad but I wonder if his boy knows he's on to a good thing, after all, his boy is now in his forties....

As the night wore on, the drink flowed and people began to let their hair down (all except Tel, the local farm guru and Kojak impersonator)
Hopefully there will be a few photos from the evening as David, the local happy snapper was there. I think his recent competition success may have gone to his head as he was wandering round with a big badge on his jacket saying 'Press'. He took it off after the 23rd person did just that and jabbed him in the chest.
We had a small incident when Dusty tried to light one of his own farts and set fire to a plate of Brandy truffles. Luckily, Dave J put it out with a soda syphon. It was a fast bit of thinking on his part, he should have been a fireman rather than trying to train collies for his Welsh themed circus act.
Pilly became rather plastered and got up on the table to sing an impromtu version of 'You're the first, my last, my everything' which he did rather well as he looked like a photo-negative of Barry White.
Things took a little turn for the worse when Hilly's missus arrived to collect him and he started singing Elton John's 'The Bitch is Back'.
He got a lift home with Tel...

So, a good night had by all I think. Several stayed over and I finally went up to bed in the early hours and found that Lumkpin had taken my bed and appeared to have company in the form of one of the hunt followers. I decided to leave him to it as the girl in question was trying to blow a rendition of the Post Horn Gallop.
I went into the one of the old servants bedrooms only to find none other than the foxy little number with the low cut top who's horse I had held at the last meet. We got chatting about hunting and pest control for quite a while and I did my best to remain focused despite being constantly distracted.
Those hounds broke out from cover more than once last night.