Richard Baum

The weekend just gone saw my house well and truly “warmed,” when a large throng of people descended on it and risked their lives by taking part in that most extreme of sports – eating food barbecued by me.

The death count is currently static and zero, but can only move one way, and since the gestation period of whatever bacteria I have infected my friends with is probably a good few days, I am expected a flurry of angry and vomit-interrupted phone calls towards the end of the week.

There were representatives from every walk of my life there in the garden on Saturday night – neighbours, old friends, fellow Lib Dem types, strangers who claimed to be friends with Tam… And obviously because we all lead contented lives where our every whim is catered for in a blizzard of effortless consumerism, nobody could be bothered putting in the necessary legwork and making new friends any more. So we had the odd scenario which I see at weddings whereby the assembled crowd split off into sects, not intermingling except for laboured small talk in the queue for food. I am equally guilty of being simply too lazy to bother making friends with new people. Occasionally someone new sneaks in by the back door, just appearing at enough functions that I’m also at so that my ignoring turns to gruff nodding, then to an acknowledging smile, until eventually conversation turns to mutual ground like the fact that we keep bumping into each other at interminable social events. But mainly, I’m sorry to say, my friendship train left the station long ago.

So on Saturday I got a taste of what it must be like having a wedding of my own – being happy that everyone I love is in the same room for pretty much the only time in my life, but then spending the whole time panicking that I can’t get round to see them all. There really is a lot to be said for granting audiences with people at individual time-slots. At least then I could ask the sort of probing questions about new boyfriends that I really want to ask, rather than just glancing across rooms at laughing crowds that should have me in them, and making sure everyone has enough wine in their re-usable plastic cup.

The perfect way to get rid of hangovers, whilst simultaneously fulfilling community duty, is to attend the Annual Prestwich Clough Day. Happily for all concerned, this was yesterday, and once again was an absolutely excellent event of which our whole area can be proud. The weather was perfect, unlike last year when, as I recall, Prestwich was visited by the monsoon. This year the brass bands weren’t using their trumpets as snorkels, which is always a good sign for an outdoor event, I find.

As in previous years there were some excellent stands, full of information from community groups, the Council, local charities and societies. I learned a lot about the very exciting developments from the Forestry Commission in the Drinkwater Park area over the coming months – there are going to be some beautiful new developments, by the sounds of it. There were also animals to view – birds of prey and hedgehogs received plenty of attention from the guests who I’d brought along post-housewarming.

I think there were more people there than I’d seen in previous years too. I was there from the beginning right through until near the end, and it was a hugely successful event which showed our district off for the vibrant and friendly place it really is. Enormous credit must go to the organisers and those who gave up their time to make the stalls a success. Their efforts really did make an enormously positive impression. Here’s to next year.

Rick