Would that I could go! I had hoped to, but circumstances and four porch columns that need replacing dictated that, alas!, I could not.

But what do I care? Getaway is nought but a weekend of drinking, brawling, wenching, singing, music, late nights, and all of those things that folk singers and their ilk are known for. There will almost certainly be the Annual Police Raid where tear gas, pepper spray, rubber bullets, water cannon, and flash-bangs will be used to break up the uncouth clots of card carrying conservatives, liberals, and mugwumps.

Once again, Mother will be forced to spend her butter and egg money to bail out Amos. He will promise never again to de-pants a policeman, and next year everything will happen all over again.