The evening started well enough, almost classically in fact, with the usual pathetic attempt to cook together without fighting. We then proceeded briskly to the major planned source of entertainment for the evening - a new telescope! I tried to assemble the device while Madame read me the instructions without letting me see the illustrations. Obviously this took longer than was strictly necessary, as all of you who have half-drunkenly built scientific tools for observing celestial bodies on New Year's Eve can probably imagine.
I shall spare you the details of us stupidly looking down the wrong end for ages and then finding, of course, that we hadn't removed the lens cap. As soon as we had it more or less working we swung it out of the living room window and began to spy on the neighbours. More champagne was uncorked while the questionable ethics of of our undertaking were briefly considered only to be immediately buried by the realisation that a telescope with a magnification of 262.5 to 1 is useless for house-to-house surveillance.
Giggling maniacally, we transported the entire apparatus, and more champagne, to the back garden to get a sighting on the moon, arguing about whether the image we were trying to trap in the view finder was waxing gibbous or waning crescent. Finally, Madame's eye glued to the lens and both of us trying to bodily force the main tube in different directions, the pitted face of our ancient satellite became clearly and brightly visible. We took turns to gawp in awe at the craters for a couple of minutes until we suddenly discovered that it was 2 am and bloody cold.
Obviously, more champagne was needed, and once we had drunk it all, we went to bed.
Of course, a far worse crime than the initiation of the preceding events was the irrepressible good humour that accompanied my awakening this morning, leading me to whistle cheerfully while tidying the kitchen, and recklessly clank empty bottles together. I wonder when she will let me back out of the cellar ...
