* * * Short(er) version of this available here. * * *

I mysteriously ended my last entry with a note about getting a large Styrofoam box. And I'll now start with a (somewhat long,) explanation of that. It was to put crushed ice in. And the ice was to keep champagne or white wine cold, while sitting outside. And we needed a lot of such bottles cold, because we were having a huge party in the garden. And... the event for this party was the ninetieth birthday of Pamela's Grandmother, (From now on, referred to as "Omi." -that's not her name, but it's the German equivalent of "Nana" or "Granny")

The planning for this party had been going on for weeks, if not months. And there was a mountain of work for people to do. It was only 40 guests, I guess, but this family wasn't happy giving them all pasta salads, from paper plates, at plastic tables.

We had tables set up, with white linen on them, and wine glasses, and plates and cutlery borrowed from the local golf club, (which there are some connections to,) and there were floral decorations on the tables. Then there were the two large tents to set up, as well as the serving tables within them. And what a menu was served! What comes first to mind is the five different cakes, the two mousses, and the... liquid desert. But there was also grilled chicken, sausages, a pot roast, salads, appetizers, and on and on. And that was only Dinner. There was also a lunch, and an afternoon tea. Oh, and there was the rice, which I was made responsible for. This was because the True German family eats mostly potatoes, and it was known that I eat a lot of rice. So, OK. I made a huge pot of rice. There was a communication problem however, and at the moment when the rice was cooked, I found out that it was meant to be Indian, or Asian rice.

I had no cashews with me. I had no spices with me. I had to improvise something... fast! It turned out alright, but the annoying thing was that if I'd known before, I could have made something that I would have been truly proud of. (The Chicken Biryani, or a Pilau, or something!)

But the party was not just a matter of sitting in the garden, and stuffing our faces, (did I forget to mention that a fair amount of gardening work had to be done before hand as well?) A party needs background music. Pamela's father had been spending weeks collecting songs from Omi's youth, and getting them on CDs. He and I together were then responsible for setting up the Sound system. So I took their amplifier, CD player, and speakers, and set them up in a corner of the garden. I also had my laptop with me, because it's just so much easier to organise play lists from a hard drive.

But what would a party be without dancing? As we were going all out with this party, we built a dance floor in the middle of the lawn. (Another big project for the father and I.) We had wooden pallets, and a thin card board layer, and then a snap-together parquet on top. But that looked unfinished, so we put a thin boarder around that too. (It's a simple thing to write, but it took hours and hours to complete.)

We'd borrowed lights from here and there, and these were set up through the garden, and in the trees, (Climbing the trees was of course my job. :-) And... We'd also borrowed a beamer. (A Projector, for a computer.) The mother had been spending a couple months getting photos scanned, and then put together into a digital slide show, portraying Omi's life, and the people in it. Some time after dinner then, we got that set up, and I played it from my laptop.

Oh, and it had been decided that Pamela and I would provide a bit of entertainment and do a dance for Omi. We at first thought of Dirty Dancing, (because it was known, and well loved by Omi,) but it half the steps really aren't clear in the movie, so I suggested something from a Fred Astaire film. -And that's what we somehow got together. We'd recorded the music onto my computer, and practiced it and practised it. and found ways to fake the parts that we didn't have time to make clean, and I put on my bow tie, and Pamela her dancing shoes, and we did that. (Rather well too.)

The other thing which was my responsibility to do, was to make a personalised "Who wants to be a Millionaire?" game for Omi to play. I'd spent over a month finding the screens for it, and the music from the internet. -And then programming the whole thing in HTML, (meaning that the game would be played as a website: clicking buttons, and going to the next questions, and changing the music and so on and on. I learned a lot about javascript doing that.) Anyhow, it was also projected onto the screen, and she had to answer questions about... things relating to her. The unfortunate thing, (which still pricks me a bit,) was that there simply was no time to do that in the evening. The only way it would have been done is if I'd been forceful, and took command, and dictated that "Now we're doing this! So everybody stop what you're doing and pay attention!" -And that's something I'm not at all good at. So in the end, we did this the next day, in the sunlight, (which made the whole thing difficult to see,) and with an audience of only 10. (I realize that I'm only annoyed because I have too much pride about it. Omi enjoyed it, and that should be enough. But I still would have liked to have all the guests see it, and be impressed with how perfectly it was put together.)

Enough about that though.

The point of the last thousand words is that we all had a pile of work to do in preparation for this party. (And we were so dead, and drained of energy afterwards, that no one thought of taking pictures. We just couldn't do a single thing more.) But the party was a noted success, (And some people even used the dance floor, though not as many as could have been hoped.) It was a party to remember. (And I'm now considered an expert dance-floor-layer by the family and it's friends.)

This whole party was set up on Saturday and Sunday, and then her Birthday was on Monday, and we had our last little tea and lunch on Tuesday. The rest of the week I spent at Pamela's home in Detmold, doing this and that, and getting ready for our vacation together. (While Pamela had to work for the rest of the week in Köln.)