You could say I’m rather hapless but definitely not unhappy or shapeless (well, the words do look a tad similar especially if you’re a speed reader). In particular I’m referring to a spot of bad luck over lunch yesterday. You see the newlyweds, Matt and Amanda, who are over from Australia and have been spending part of their honeymoon with us, were running out of time; after lunch they were going to see cousins in Paignton and would be having dinner with them, then back here for their last night. They were booked up on the train for Brighton late this morning so, in effect, yesterday lunchtime was our last opportunity to have a proper meal with them on this trip.

Charmingly, my nephew and his lovely young wife were excited at the prospect of yet another pizza (the one of three that wasn’t required at the family gathering the night before) but it was a nice pizza and I made it even more unctuous and delicious with the addition of extra cheese, peppers and pepperoni. Unfortunately, the numbers on the oven temperature dial have worn off hence it’s all a bit of guesswork; plus, I can’t time the cooking exactly according to the instructions because I always add extras so, for these reasons, I have never cooked a bought pizza to perfection – they are ever so crisp and brown, if not burnt after twenty minutes on blast furnace setting. Yesterday was no exception – but that’s normal – the mishap was yet to come.

I had laid the kitchen table but Chris, noticing the glorious sunshine outside, suggested that we eat out on the terrace balcony looking over the sea. We each filled our plates with salad and the well-done oozing pizza, added the dressings and the condiments, and took them onto the balcony. Suddenly I thought of drinks. A minute later I was back with a large bottle of sparkling water and four glasses. One glass dropped from my hands and shattered on the table… and some glass bounced… onto the plates of Amanda and Matt, especially so in the case of the latter.

The young stoics laughed and insisted that they didn’t mind pulling the small cubes of glass from their plates – “At least they were cubes (like a shattered car windscreen) and not shards!” Matt jested. I hasten to add that I brought out two extra plates and Chris and I brushed the patio floor (the newlyweds wore socks alone). We talked about the first “Die Hard” film with Bruce Willis, in particular the part where Willis has to run barefoot over broken glass and, once again, we were reminded how lucky we were that the tumbler had broken in such a fortuitous way. During the course of the meal my nephew stood up and walked to the balustrades, not to enjoy the view but to remove something from his mouth and throw it over the wall. He said:

“You know what? Glass really isn’t too bad, not nearly as bad as metal. Once I had a Chinese meal and a lump of metal from the wok got caught in my teeth. Now that was bad – it broke a tooth. No, glass is quite chewy and easy to find.”

At the end of the meal Matt made another wry comment:

“Isn’t it funny how this was our last meal together and it really could have been our ‘last supper’?”

Someone asked if he was in any pane and I can’t remember the other glass jokes.

In the evening, some hours later, the young couple came in and joined us in the lounge room. Chris turned off “Masterchef” (I endeavour to take note of how not to overdo things) and they told us of their excitement on the way home. The warning light had come on and, not wishing to cause any harm to the engine, they stopped and tried to open the bonnet. They were some time trying to find the lever to open the bonnet… They couldn’t find the lever – mine is a tricky little French car with levers in funny places. Luckily Matt chose to knock on the door of a rich old couple who were disposed to help the young Aussies in every possible way. The rich man’s son was called; he, in turn, looked up Peugeot Cabriolets on Google and… “Bob’s your uncle!” Soon the car was furnished with two bottles of superior quality motor oil from the posh garage and a jug of water for good measure. Apparently they had a jolly time with Brian.

They arrived safely, and on time, in Brighton this afternoon. I expect they are chatting with Jim and Jaimy right now, probably telling my son and his wife about the pizza and the breakdown. Chris took my sporty little French car with the foxy levers out for a spin and gave it a good polish to boot (not just on the boot). The car is going like a dream now it has had its fill of new oil from the “good Samaritan”. No harm done and no “last suppers”! But thank goodness we don’t live in glass houses!

Here are some photos taken at our family gathering: