Well, that went rather quickly and whilst for many it was a total washout, the two outdoor activities I had planned  this weekend went, rather remarkably, without disruption. Who says the sun doesn’t shine on the righteous? Firstly, I managed to play in a cricket match where it stayed dry until the close of play, a game where some wild flaying of the willow in attempt to push our score towards the target of 199 ended on season high score of eight as I was stumped  hitting thin air in attempt to score a six for the first time in my largely unfilled cricket career. However, rather than the turgid and excruciatingly tedious innings’ of previous weeks, this short display of imitating a one armed man trying to kill a snake in a phone box, was hugely entertaining and had the pavilion rocking with laughter.

So, after a Saturday evening drinking with the good folk of Broughton, Sunday was spent being lazy in between visiting a pub near Newbury to see friends from Canberra, Australia, who are on whistle stop tour of the UK. Quite what they made of the at best, moderate lunch that was on their table is anyone’s guess, but it didn’t look great, in fact Amy’s looked like the excrement from a poorly toddlers nappy. The pub itself was was full of right wing farmer types who seemed obsessed with watching on a big  screen the dear old Queen getting soaked to the skin on some old tug boat going down the River Thames whilst they said things like “makes you proud it does” and “Gawd bless ‘er”. At 86 (I think) it was amazing that they even stuck her out in that weather and though she seemed largely unaffected by the monsoon, all that water cascading from the sky sent Prince Phil’s bladder in to over-drive and landed the poor old sod up in hospital where he will be making inappropriate references to nurses as I write.

Yesterday was the really big day however, as it was the Broughton Jubilee party up at the local football field, an event that had gone viral and was expecting a large turn out. Many of you may remember that I abstained from the Royal Wedding party last April as part of my one man crusade against the ruling classes whom I have long detested. However, rather than being a hero of the masses, this made actually made me hugely unpopular and resulted in me walking the banks of the River Kennet all by myself with my only brief bit of company being that of a maniac who had been released for the day just to scream some alarmingly threatening abuse at me approximately one mile upstream of the Rowbarge pub……a fucking long way to run with walking boots on I can assure you. As a consequence, this year I decided that I would go along with the whole charade, thus avoiding the prospect of losing more friends and the possibility of being murdered and thrown into stinging nettles only to be found by a dog walker (it’s always dog walkers) two weeks later.

A Boozy Day With the Boys From Broughton

Me and Di in a rare photo where we both look half normal

I have to say that I had a brilliant day, a booze fuelled event that featured my two favorite hobbies, being sociable and drinking heavily as the live bands played and everyone did their bit to make the whole day a success, and though it wasn’t a day for shorts and sun cream, the skies turned blue with immaculate timing. It soon became apparent that, in reality, most people weren’t really that bothered about the Jubilee, they just wanted an excuse for a boozy and  fun afternoon/evening. I suppose it could be argued I had sold my soul, but I have to say, it was more enjoyable than the threat of meeting my maker on the deserted banks of the River Kennet. The rain duly arrived again this morning, but not before we had packed away the marquees and cleared the mess from the previous nights festivities. I spent today avoiding the rain, polishing my house and watching clips of the concert from Buckingham Palace yesterday, the highlight being Cliff Richard surpassing his “Singing in the Rain” concert at Wimbledon several years back with a performance so toe curling the digits on my feet nearly snapped clean off. That guy has no shame, I dare you to watch his attempt at “Devil Woman” but not before booking an appointment with a toe surgeon.

Just as I get a little tinge of patriotism Cliff Richard and Paul McCartney sing some songs and a picture of John Terry appears on the back of the newspaper to bring me shuddering back down to earth.