Mac’s Moving Feast

Well Dave has excelled yet again! I followed him out to the gate to put a new sign out. Talk about mission impossible – I kept trying to tell him to tie it down. Afterall, you didn’t have to be Einstein to know it was a bit blowy. We almost parachuted down to Gundaroo. Anyway, half an hour later there was the sign saying ‘Moving Feast’ flapping in the wind. M had spent days making some Irish concoction that looked and smelled great, but not a drop came my way. Typical. And then hundreds of people invaded my space – it was all legs and crumbs all weekend (not that I’m complaining about the crumbs). Dave and Mary looked proud as punch with so many people liking their wines. I wasn’t sure what I was meant to do. As usual, Dave was useless with directions; so as usual, I took control and showed him what it was all about, moving from table to table playing host and cleaner all at once. That’s what I call a Moving Feast.

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