Last night was Nathan and Rachel's wedding. It went off very well, Rachel looked beautiful, Nathan looked handsome and seemed to have recovered from the "pyromaniac stripper" incident at his bucks night. [I can say no more about it]. The bridesmaids were from Texas and all about 6'2". The speeches were pithy and heartfelt. Nathan declined to speak, with Rachel expressing his thanks etc for him as he sat looking appropriately grateful/misty eyed/blokey depending on who she was talking about.
Memo for future evening functions at Moorilla ( a beautiful winery and cultural centre hemmed in by suburban Claremont) - tee up a taxi/lift before the function ends and all the smart people who brought cars have disappeared as if by magic.
Marcus and Lana had a long discourse over the fence this morning. At one stage I heard "Well, that's what you say Lana, but everyone can think what they want to think".
Marcus and I went up to the reserve just behind the house to kick the footy this afternoon. All Michael wanted to do was run up and down the back deck, pushing his garbage truck. [It had been left languishing in the disgusting stagnant sandpit when we moved away, and has now been hosed off and is once again high in his affections]. After about twenty minutes of football we trotted back down through the hole in the back fence. Michael hailed us: "Hi, fellas!"
Cam, Sarah, Jasmine and Tommy came to see the new place and stayed for lunch. The kids all behaved, we moved a couch across to stop Tommy going down the stairs, and we were able to enjoy a few moments of The Good Life. It was just like a real estate ad - we weren't quite dining Al Fresco but we did get to laugh with freinds while our children gambled on the sun-soked deck.