Feel free to turn up any time, Half, you’ll be most welcome! Should I lay in a bottle of Maker’s Mark? Bring ninme with you if you’re coming!

In the odd chance of a Quantum Shift can you vouch for me or will I need to slip someone some cabbage, or Euros. Since I’m depending on a bizzare set of cirumstances to get me there I really can’t promise I’ll have proper finances, or even an opposable thumb for that matter. Keep an eye out for vagrants, and handsome stray cats not noted before.

I’ve just spent two weekends getting the back-yard (or “South Terrace” as I prefer to call it) fit for our silver wedding party that happens on Saturday. The garden now looks as if it’s been in the care of a flower-freak (Mrs Red’s mother, actually) who has a thing about keeping garden fences in a state of good repair (well, after sinking three new fence posts it seemed silly not to paint the damn thing). It also means that we get to use all the crockery that folks gave us years ago and which has been languishing in a cupboard for years at a stretch, and to polish up the silverware. We even get to put up a gazebo in case it rains, which it will. (It always rains, so that’s no problem.)

The deal is that it’s for family and friends who know us and who we can be confident will enjoy a glass or two of Waitrose champagne, assorted wine or beer, some proper Yorkshire pie and Mrs Red’s pudding confections, which are a serious treat. It ain’t about our egos – in one sense we’re only an excuse – but rather about the fact that we enjoy being married to each other, and we like our family and friends, and having people in our home will demonstrate the fact in a concrete manner. Weddings can go on far too much.