I bet Felicity Kendal never had to put up with this sort of thing

Oh woe. My compost heap has let me down. Like an unruly teenager, it has embarrassed me in front of my family.
When my sister-in-law came round with my brother and a lovely cake (I'm enjoying a hefty chunk of it now as it happens, washed down with a nice cup of tea) I took her out to view the Green Refuse Compacto-Decomposition Unit and she was duly impressed, but I couldn't help noticing that some of the floorboards nailed together to make the front side were coming adrift. I could only lean against them to cover them up and smile winningly in the hope that SIL wouldn't see them (she said she couldn't see anything amiss but dammit, I knew it was there).

Anyhoo. I've just been to Tesco's to buy supplies for a small gathering of friends I'm hosting this weekend to celebrate my 30th birthday (it's not a party, my official birthday party is happening later in the year). We've got cherryade, cream soda, three sorts of jelly, raspberry ripple ice cream (two tubs - I toyed with the idea of getting different flavours but really, you can't improve on raspberry ripple), champagne, party rings, happy face biscuits, pink wafer biscuits, jammy dodgers, burgers, hot dogs, dandelion and burdock, processed cheese slices, coleslaw, potato salad, onion rings, assorted crisps and lashings of ginger beer! The plan is to get really high on sugar and run around breaking things. I need TV for my bumhole!