“Diane?” I asked over the phone yesterday morning, “Would you and Henry like to join us for dinner at The Windaroo Tavern tonight?”

(I’m a believer in doing things on a whim – then you won’t be disappointed if it doesn’t turn out great because you haven’t long been looking forward to the event, and if it is wonderful, then the surprise makes it even more so.)

“That sounds pretty good…” answered Diane.

“But I thought you might like to come around to Roland’s earlier – maybe mid-afternoon – to do a bit of ‘cloud-shooting’ again?” I asked enticingly – I had a feeling that would hook her.

“That sounds even better!” my brother’s girlfriend became excited. She was, after all, the Maid Marian, number one cloud-shooter, from last weekend’s tournament.

Unfortunately, I turned up at my old friend Roland’s place a little later than anticipated (on my part, but just as late as he had expected) for a spot of “fishin'” so we had to make do with local river fishing, rather than going all the way down to Jacob’s Well to our preferred location. As you will see from the photographs, Roland caught a catfish while I caught a tan (and very nearly a big mud crab that let go as it surfaced from the river).

As for the cloud-shooting, it is such an exhilarating and joyful experience that the participants will let you put flowers in their hair and behind their ears and take photographs of them like nymphs and fairies from a Midsummer Night’s Dream – and I’m referring to the macho men! No arrows actually landed in a bucket this time although one of Maid Marian’s arrows rested against the side.

Dinner was great, the dancing was great.

“Sally, you look exactly as you did all those years ago,” Henry and Roland agreed.

“That’s just because I haven’t learnt any new steps,” I replied and everyone laughed because each of us still danced in the same manner as we did in the eighties.

Cajoled by the music and the hour, we visitors were glad of the offer of an impromptu sleep-over, without which we would not have danced until two in the morning. Happy, but tired, at last we went to our rooms with the thought of a sleep-in and a late breakfast very much in mind.

Shortly after going to bed I was awakened by Henry and Diane talking.

“They have a lot of energy,” I thought to myself. I didn’t like to enquire if anything was amiss.

Later on I was awakened again. I thought I heard laughter. I covered my ears with my pillow lest I should hear something I shouldn’t.

At six in the morning I heard voices outside my bedroom door – Roland was talking to Diane and Henry. So much for the sleep-in! I thought that I, too, had better get up.

Henry and Diane’s bed had broken within an hour of their falling into it and they spent the night on the mattress, which they had dragged into the lounge-room.

Breakfast was delicious and the whole weekend was perfect… well nearly, I thought how much Chris would have enjoyed it. He would have laughed about the broken bed and no doubt remembered, as did I, some of our falling through bed-slats experiences… when we had booked up for cheap holidays on the spur of the moment.