Yesterday, it was my turn...again. Fathers Day, as it happens. My Mum insists on taking a photo of my Dad surrounded by his three daughters. He looks nonplussed and we look amused.
I spend the morning preparing food. I like doing that bit. Nothing particularly special, just BBQ-ed sausages and burgers, some salad stuff. Homemade pudding - apricot crumble, made with fresh apricots but with no almonds on top because my sister has a nut allergy, which is a shame because apricots and almonds are great together!
Everyone turns up and we eat our way through an outdoor feast. The children play football on the grass and there's a bit of a fight with No2 and one of his cousins! Beer and rosé wine are drunk merrily and my brother-in-law has me and my sisters in stitches at some very rude jokes, out of earshot of the children! And my Mum!
Before we know it it is teatime and so get stuck into a Victoria Sponge and some banana and cinnamon muffins (all part of the morning's work). Everyone leaves complaining of having eaten too much! I put the dishwasher on for the second time and crash on the sofa. No2 asks why I want to go to bed at 9.45pm - he doesn't get that entertaining is tiring but likes the fact that there has been a full house for the day.
The other crucial ingredients are balmy weather, pink geraniums giving the deck fabulous pools of colour, carefully picked music on the iPod dock and a bright pink tablecloth...apparently!