It was the annual scraggy croquet tournament on Sunday. It is hosted by our friends the Underwoods, who have a farm at Dunton Bassett about 4 miles away, and have a croquet lawn beside the farmhouse. I use the word tournament in its loosest sense. We all turn up, drink Pimms, eat nibbles, drink Pimms, have a barbecue, drink Pimms, and some of us eventually start knocking a ball around the croquet course that is already setup. It is a very good afternoon, and even more so by the evening when we are all distinctly relaxed. This year the girls didn’t even bother to stop gossiping for a game leaving the blokes to carry on with the spirit of the event and we managed a couple of games between Pimms. The girls did do the cooking though – very sexist, but they seemed to prefer this to the rigours of the croquet course.
It is a vicious game and the rules are complex resulting in some interesting discussions during the games. My play generally improves in proportion to the quantity of Pimms consumed but this year I think I was too constrained since I merely moved from last to third out of four places over two games, and I really cannot remember what happened in the third. By then I didn’t really care.
Technically we live in Oaktree House, but sadly the tree had to go.
We now have a thriving Oakstump at the front of the house.
