I'm afraid I caused rather a scene at last night's welcome-home soiree that I held for the former Bathsheba Everdene and her rather rakish new husband, Sgt Troy.
We had some of that faux-peasant "folk" of which the middle classes, if I can call them that, are so fond. And someone started playing "Greensleeves".
Well, I mean to say. Greensleeves is the sort of rather rubbish folk that Drayton Parslow, weak-minded hippy liberal that he was, used to like. I'm afraid I bashed the singer over the head with his own mandolin and kicked him down the kitchen garden.