Tonight I am off to a Scottish couple's wedding. Which has got me thinking a)please let it be overcast first thing tomorrow and b)can the birds please keep the noise down too. It also more pertinently has got me wondering who have the best parties for particular events. I have no doubt whatsoever that the most enjoyable weddings I've ever been to are Scottish - bags of booze, lashings of nosh and godless stramashes accompanied by music. Often these have involved loss of large parts of my life and memory gaps which make me very wary of meeting strangers in the Central Region. For funerals you cannot beat a good Irish one. Out in the country you still get three bites at the cherry, with Reception of the Body, funeral feast and the wake all marked by excessive alcoholic imbibement. If an Irish widow asks you if you would like a glass of whiskey, well that is actually what she means - unlike a barman in Bagot Street who means do you want a measured double! As soon as you take a sip, there is a member of the family at your side offering refreshers...oh you really get the full funeral experience in Itreland, you don't just sympathise with the bereaved, you empathise with the deceased the morning after too. And they are awfully accommodating too. We turned up in a pub in Connemara one year, en route to the TFB's nine hundredth and forty seventh first cousin's place. It was a gloomy place because the local hero and chairman of the Rugby club had kicked off. We were invited to come back the following night for the wake. As I hadn't been to such a do, we postponed our departure. I have never been on a pub-crawl with a coffin before but as God is my witness, the dear departed accompanied us around every pub in Clifden. Along with about 500 of his closest and dearest friends. Nine pubs... I asked a local is it always like this. "Oh no" spake he "you'll get a funeral like this once every ten years or so." Which on reflection was bloody lucky, because another one like that would have finished me off! Christenings - well I usually find these pretty dull. However I went to one in Germany. All of the boxhead fraus were locked in the house, the lads went outside and ate a whole pig, washed down with copious volumes of beer. Proper dortmunder pils too, none of that Becks sh1te. Children who came too near the menfolk were fecked off at the high port. It could have been a stag party for all the interaction between the sexes - I expect they felt it was enough to have been there at the conception and no need to make a song and dance about it.