By jingo Darrol, like the song goes, “was’nt that a party!”

I told you last week The Widdow was havin’ a few folks drop by fer a little shindig. Turned out to be more like 40, but whose countin’?

There was doctors and arkitects, bankers, stalk brokers, and more old lawyers and judges than even OJ Simpson ever seen. Most of ’em retired but doin’ fine, Thank You very much, and evry dang one dressed to the 9s or even 10s.

From the way some of ’em hobbled onto the dock, I had a fair good hunch the festivitys got goin’ afore the boat even pulled outta the main land.

What The Widdow fergot to menshun was she planned the hole thing to show off Unkle Walt as the new man in her life.

Now I ain’t all that shy when it comes to strangers, but most of them hi-flyin’ birds cud’nt find much to say once they learnt I useta be a farmer.

One old gal that was drippin’ more trinkits than King Tut smiled and said, “how fassinatin’. I did’nt know they still had farmers.”

Walt done a tad better than me. When folks ast what he done fer a livin’, he jest told it true.

“Not much,” he said. With that and his fanssy new duds from Ittaly, they must of took ‘im fer one of there own and he got on fine.

Things got more layed-back once the grub was served. Seems theres nothin’ like a bellyfull of fish eggs and fizzy wine to take the starch out of the hoity-toity set.

There was a wet bar near the pool and long tables full of eats under a tent on the tennis court. There was even a live band playin’ long-hair fiddle musick from way back afore I was even born.

You wont beleave this Darrol, but one fiddle was near as big as a grown man.

Round midnite the players took a brake and went fer a swim. Thats when Walt took a noshun to liven things up a bit.

He picked up a fiddle called a Stradovaryous or somethink and started playin’ some down-home tunes. Jest from instinck, I fetched a pare of desert spoons and joined in.

Wellsir it was’nt long till Walt and The Widdow is up on the table and he’s teachin ‘er the fine points of how to step dance the Dingwells Pond way.

Let me tell you, Marg and Charley never done it haff so good on Don Messers Jubilee.

But when Walt lit into “Aunty Mary had a canary up the leg of ‘er drawers,” you never seen a bunch of stuffed shirts come unstuffed so fast.

Next thing you know, the cream of the cream is singin’ back at the top of there lungs, “Unkle Charley had some barley up the leg of ‘is drawers.”

When the boat set sale near dawn, folks all said it was the best darn kitchen party BC never had.