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Today we had quite a decent nibbles table for a Friday, with some shortbread, a couple of chocolate orange thins and various party snacks. I was good, and contented myself with one bit of shortbread, relying on water from the cooler to keep myself going the rest of the time...until the end of the shift.

In my defence, I should say that at ten past two I got a lady who insisted on doing all her four-person family then and there. So when I came off the phone at 2.49, having gone the whole shift on one bit of shortbread and water, you can hardly blame me for having the munchies.

And at that point, what did I see in the basket of party snacks that I'd somehow not noticed before? Peanuts. My number one Achilles heel. I helped myself to a generous handful. Then, as my last five-minute mini-break had been before 1.40, I told Marilyn I'd be taking a five-minute break now, before coming back to check my internal e-mails and enter my payclaim. She had no problem with that. Had another handful of nuts when I came back from my break.

And so I got to clock off at 3.00 instead of 2.55. Granted, I've only gained about 70p doing that, but it's the principle :)

Went down to the library to find they've taken the internet PCs out. Wandering along the corridor, I took a shufti at the coffee lounge. Oh Joy, Oh Rapture, there are two internet PCs in there, plus comfortable chairs, a telly and a couple of vending machines. A very pleasant haven for whenever I overrun and have to sit around waiting for the 3.40 bus.

In Fareham BK, my Angus was placed on the metal shelf ready to be served to me fairly soon after I ordered, but the girl serving on the till completely ignored it while she blithely concentrated on taking orders from people who arrived after I ordered. After nearly 10 minutes I had to point it out to another woman who, in the meantime, had come out to serve on another till - and it took me a couple of minutes to catch her attention. So by the time the Angus was finally placed in my hand, I had to head for the bus station to catch the bus home. I sneaked my burger onto the bus under cover of my copy of The News - no-one minded my eating it on the bus, but I wasn't 100% happy about it.

Phoned Trevor : the girls' game at Salisbury last night was called off. No surprise really, given all the rain we had during the day! It's been rearranged for next Wednesday, when I'm free. Hallelujah!

To the Milestones museum in Basingstoke in the evening for Pat's Burns Night. We were met by a bagpiper outside. Most people were simply wearing tartan scarves, though Peter and Marian from Eastleigh went for sprigs of heather - but they're lucky enough to have it growing in their garden. Pat was impressed with my tartan shirt, although the other Pat, the vice-chairman, reckoned it was cheating. (When we'd met, she'd become the new holder of the Most Tardy Happy New Year Greeting crown.) Richard was actually turned out in full Highland regalia, sporran, kilt, skean dhu and all.

Each table had the name of a Scottish clan. We were in the Wallace clan, with John and Pam from Fareham, Tony and Margaret from Basingstoke, David and Rosemary from the New Forest and John and Margaret from Rushmoor. Basingstoke Margaret, next to me, was delighted to be a Wallace; when she and Tony joshed Rosemary, who's very staid, about being in the clan of 'Wallace the rebel', I turned to Margaret and said "Actually, I'd say he's a Scottish national hero." Margaret agreed, and added "He's got nice legs too." After she'd elaborated on how she'd like to be taken for a ride on Wallace's horse, and similar themes, I put the question:

"Do you mean the historical William Wallace, or Mel Gibson?"

Margaret confessed she'd been thinking of the latter.

Dinner began with the piping-in of the haggis, followed by a Scotsman reading Burns' poem 'To A Haggis'. Each table had a decanter of Scotch whisky with a little plastic dram glass each : Fareham John, after feigning disappointment not to be allowed the whole decanter to himself, shared out the Scotch for us to toast the haggis. There was a water jug of beer on each table, but when Tony and I both tried it at the start of dinner it was already flat. The food, though, was utterly faultless. I love haggis, but we seldom have it in our house, so the starter of (delicious) haggis with tatties and neeps was a real treat. Main course of sirloin of Aberdeen Angus (quite a step up from its humble cousin I'd chowed down on on a bus 5 hours earlier!) with veg and roast potatoes was glorious too. Sweet was the traditional Scottish dessert of Cranachan, which consists of cream, raspberries and toasted oatmeal. Absolutely lovely.

Margaret and I had a pretty enjoyable conversation throughout, but she put me on the spot over the coffee and chocolate mints. Having picked up on my knowledge of trivia, she challenged me, in the hearing of the whole table, to answer two questions:

1) Why does 6-foot 1-inch Gene Hackman look so small in The French Connection?

2) Why is 'albeit' one word but 'so be it' three words?

I guessed that Gene Hackman had a body double, but that got no reply, so I had to confess to Margaret that she'd beaten me - twice. I expected her to triumphantly reel off the answers then, but...she didn't know them either! They were simply issues that puzzled her, so she'd hoped I'd be able to solve the mysteries for her. She challenged me to come up with the right answers by their Charity Ball in April.

David, a county councillor, proposed the 'Toast to the Lassies', with a speech and a poem that aimed a few good-humoured barbs at women before concluding with affection. Pat gave the reply, giving just as good right back at men! After the coffee and mints we were piped into another section of the museum for the Scottish Country Dancing. I talked to Brian and Viv from Hart as we all watched the hired dancers do an impressive Eightsome Reel. Then came the call for us guests to come up and do the Gay Gordons - my cue to head for the pub where, according to Pat and the programme, free beer was to be served.

I requested a Winter Brew; the barmaid drew it then asked me for £2.65! I said I'd thought the beer was free. The barmaid retorted that there was 'no free beer here'; the only free beer had been the flat jugs of small on the tables at dinner! As I wasn't carrying, I had to rush outside, find me ma and borrow three quid from her. So Pat and the programme were telling porkies X:(

With my beer finally in hand, I sat down next to Viv, as we'd told each other we'd both be sitting the dancing out - she with her asthma and I with my two left feet. The dance compere issued a call for groups of two men and a woman for the next dance; my mother immediately grabbed Tony, then she started moving towards me - I said "Don't even think about it, I just sat down with this pint." So, despite Tony calling out my name, she pounced on Rushmoor John instead. While they were frolicking around on the artificial lawn, I talked some more to Viv. Then the guests made way for the proper dancers to reclaim the limelight, and we all sat chatting as we watched, till at about 11.15 people started to go. That was enough for me ma, so we too wandered around saying our goodbyes and headed for the Mayoral car.

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Another evening, another civic function. This one was a 'Supper Night' in aid of a local cancer charity, with the food cooked by family friend Alec who's a major supporter of theirs.

We literally had to sing for our supper! The evening began with a performance of old-time music hall songs from The St Vincent Singers. Their MC and pianist was my old music teacher - she was well spooked to see me again after 19 years! On every table were some song sheets, and we all had to sing along with medleys of songs at the beginning, middle and end of the hour-long set. During the second song, 'You Must Have Been A Beautiful Baby', one of the old ladies in the choir broke ranks and beatled over to our table, where she proceeded to sing the song to me while flirtatiously touching me. In between community sing-alongs, the Singers gave us solos of numbers like Burlington Bertie, plus several group renditions.

By the time our last community medley was over, we were all about ready for some nosh. Our table were called up first. The food was modest - cottage pie or fish pie, with peas and beans; I went for the cottage pie - but quite tasty. Of the three desserts available, I went for a chocolate mousse with strawberries and chocolate cereal balls on it, with cream - very nice, and there was enough for anyone who wanted to have seconds. You can bet I did.

The night ended with the raffle. For about the third or fourth prize, one of me ma's tickets came up, but she gets embarrassed about winning raffle prizes when she's there in her Mayoral capacity, so she told me to go up and claim a prize. Amid shouts of 'fix' (though not as loud as the ones when two of the charity's trustees both later won prizes), I chose a box of crystallised gingers.

"You can have that," my mother moaned, "I don't like ginger. Why couldn't you pick the jelly babies?" I'll put it on the nibbles table on Thursday.