Moleman and Dobbin

Last weekend Daughter Number 3 and Boyfriend called in on their way back from The Green Man Festival in Wales - mountains, mud and some music. The next day I invited my cousins over for a family tea. In the kitchen, adorning some shop-bought goodies (M&S, not Aldi on this occasion) with home-made garnish, I was somewhat taken aback to hear my Cousin's Husband greet Boyfriend Number 3 with the immortal words, "By Jove, you look just like [our] Mole Man!!". I should explain that my cousins are the proud owners of a beautiful park-like garden on which they spend a lot of time, energy and money, not least in the area of (destructive) wildlife eradication - no rabbit, squirrel, fox, mole or magpie shall be allowed to pollute the shades of Dorridge, not on their watch anyway. To his credit, BF 3 took the unverifiable (my cousin not wishing to be drawn on the point) comparison on the chin and we all adjourned to the tea table on which I had laid the proverbial magnificent spread.

One bite of the of the home-filled, shop-bought pastry cased quiche confirmed my belated suspicion that the crust was intended for a strawberry, and not a mushroom, flan. No-one said anything (least of all moi) and my Cousin's Husband had 2 pieces, not counting the one which BF 3, possibly still bearing just the slightest grudge over the Moleman episode, flipped business side down on the tablecloth. Then, obviously feeling he had not made his antipathy sufficiently clear, he up-ended his wine glass and baptised both the tuna fish mousse and my Cousin's Husband with special offer Sauvignon Blanc. "What's in the vol o vents?" enquired Daughter Number 3 in a thinly veiled attempt to turn attention away from her hapless consort. "Oh, nothing to worry about", I blithely assured her, beaming at Buddhist, vegetarian BF3, "I bought, I mean made, them especially!" Two minutes later, I was being severely taken to task by my youngest child on account of the bacon bits discovered in said French delicacies while BF3 discreetly, and only very slightly reproachfully, disposed of his most recent mouthful in his napkin. Humble pie, anyone?

Who could fail to warm to dear, sweet Boris Johnson as he made his extensively pre-publicised but nevertheless fascinating ancestral discoveries on "Who Do You Think You Are?" (BBC1 Wednesday 9pm). Not me certainly. I even found myself fancying a bit of the old fossicking around with such a funny, cuddly, erudite and well-connected polar bear - Cripes!!