We were so busy enjoying a right old knees-up of a shivaree for the newlyweds, walloping away on the kitchenware, that at first we didn’t hear the bagman knocking at the door - poor fellow, drenched to the skin he was, and abjectly proferring a tin tray of sodden wares; so we brought him in, dried him off, and after we’d kitted him out in some moth-eaten foppery from my flower-power days he downed a few drinks, bashed away on his tray with the best of us, and was happy as Larry.