The eager wood of a brand new pressing machine, cold drinks with bubbles and blankets on the grass. Who would have thought that Domo and the Beaver could have found such like minded creatures in the middle of the woods?
Three cheers, then, to the Garden Party, so often passed over for cocktails or for dinner. But the sun is setting earlier now, the leaves have started on their final journey, and it is the afternoon, not the evening, that ripples with excitement.
So why not, a garden party? Why not, indeed? Puppies and horses and a gargling goose, fresh cider, iced spiced cake, scarves and sunglasses. The apples crash down with a thump- with a thump, thump- into a gold field of delightful imaginings.
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