On Saturday night Chris and I went to a murder mystery party set in late 60's London - otherwise known as the Bevans' dining room. Ten of us made appropriate effort including the donning of five wigs, two false moustaches, some false chest hair, some grey hair effects and even a change of skin colour achieved with many pots of brown eyeshadow. We had a jolly good laugh.
This is only a sample of the many hilarious photographs taken. Shockingly, Chris turned out to be the murderer: a fact which has quite occupied the minds of his sons this week who keep going on about it and asking if there was a body and why Daddy did it, and how, and why shouldn't have been someone else. In the spirit of the thing we enjoyed Mrs Peel cocktails and lots of Babycham which may be rubbish but, given the low-grade of our hangovers, may have more to offer than our tastebuds realised.
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