More helpers

Ok, no one reads my blog. At least not the bit about how hard helping hands are expected to work at the ranch. Today, they arrive in hoards, loaded with bedding and supplies. I compare the head count to the room count and shrug my shoulders. After all, it's my husband who invited these people, he can worry about where they will sleep.

The primary task for today is a mountain bike ride. Pete's work mates vanish temporarily, only to reappear transformed as lycra lizards, wearing technically advanced helmets, and state of the art bladders. They hop on their two wheeled steeds and disappear up the track.

We are left to sit back, enjoy a cup of coffee and watch the view. I am so relaxed I feel out of place.

After about three hours, the men return, exhilerated. They jump in and out of the shower, and the fridge (for a beer). Chips roll into bowls. They light the bonfire, and the BBQ. Bottles of red wine appear on the side table, and it takes the women five tries to get the head count right for dinner. The table is heaving under the festive offerings, which come in waves from the hot BBQ. It's musical chairs around the table - if there is nothing left on your plate, then you must offer your seat to the next person. Just when everyone thinks they are full, the damper rolls in. It is delicious. Consumed in seconds.

The troops go to check out the bonfire. Within minutes they are back, soaking wet. "It's gone, all gone." Time for ice cream, and reading magazines, and putting your feet up, and going to bed.