smigus dyngus

Mr McMuffin was rather taken by his (Polish) therapist's account of this tradition. He announced to all and sundry on Friday that he was going to introduce it to McMuffinland and he was going to start by throwing a bucket of water over Ms Ginger Cake. Unsurprisingly she threatened him with severe reprisals should he actually carry out his plans.

As we were meeting with our (Eastern European, by coincidence) financial advisor, we arranged for Ms Ginger Cake to go to Gypsy Tart's until we had finished. After the meeting, Mr McMuffin got a bucket out and I begged him not to actually fill it with water. Instead he balanced the empty bucket on the dining room door and failed to mention this to me. I think you can guess where this story is going. All I can say is that bucket hurt when it landed on my head and Mr McMuffin's tears of laughter were not an apology.

I also managed to fall out with Gypsy Tart on Saturday for the first time in years. She really was in the wrong, but it was about thoughtlessness rather than nastiness. I wondered how we were going to make up as I was determined to stay on my high horse and I knew she was a bit frightened that I might shout at her again. So on Sunday morning, I looked out of my bedroom window to see her standing in her garden and hissed bitch at her through the open window. She gave a sad little smirk and then came over for a cup of coffee. Phew, thank goodness for our adult abilities to talk about our problems in a rational manner.