THE receding of the waters in the middle sitting room has left one or two newts homeless. There has been a secret environment under our floorboards. Slugs, snails and a toad, but no puppy dogs, tails, have thrived in the murk, gloom and damp. Reminds me of the favoured habitat of a character in a book I used to read to Bryony and Jo when they were little; Fungus the Bogey Man. We have a friend who wants some newts and toads for his garden pond, so the newts and toad are currently residing in a bucket, in some comfortable damp soil, until we can take them to their new home. The earth floor, revealed when the floorboards were stripped away, has now disappeared under stone and cement, and we can get to the staircase for the bedrooms without having to go out of the house and walk right the way round to come in at the front door.

On Saturday we were guests at a wedding. Not only John and I attended but also daughter Bryony, and her husband Chris. The bride, Victoria, had been at school with Bryony and, whilst she was there, we had become firm friends with her parents, Carole and Robert. Hence the double invite. Jo-Jo , our youngest daughter, came for the weekend to look after Jessica, Bryony's baby, as there had been no mention of babies on the invitation, and it was so much easier than trying to arrange for Jessica's care at the wedding. The problem was, Bryony had forgotten to bring extra nappy supplies, as she presumed I had some at home. Jessica was to be limited to three changes of nappy whilst we attended the wedding and reception. A strain on any baby's bladder and bowels.

The wedding was wonderful. The bride a vision. And the choir, from Bryony and Victoria's school, breathtaking - John Rutter's 'For the beauty of the earth' leaving not a dry eye in the church. As the reception was 20 miles away, we had a chance, Bryony guessed, to buy some nappies en route as we were passing a large supermarket. Tesco had rarely seen such a smart customer. I had kept my hat on and the sight of a couture-clad woman, plus large hat and a big bag of Pampers nappies, would not meet the profile of your average Saturday shopper.

The reception itself was held in a splendid country house. Each reception room housed a large fireplace. John must have been the only guest with his head up the chimney trying to figure out what the draw on the fires was and if the grates, ranges or burners would be suitable for the inglenook that has been opened up in our middle room. Intrigued, the master of ceremonies came up to us and asked what John was looking for. We explained about the inglenook and that we were interested in finding an appropriate style of fireplace to go in it. "Have you found a witch's pot buried near the hearth?" he asked. Apparently, old houses often had a small pot buried near the fireplace with nails, bird bones, finger clippings and locks of hair to ward off witches spells, and he, as an amateur archaeologist, knew all about them. We were sad to tell him that unfortunately we hadn't. Just newts. And a toad.

I don't think he was very impressed with our finds, although he did cheer up at the mention of the toad. Probably thought we had found a witch's familiar. Perhaps we should have buried a pot under the new floor with some DEFRA forms, ear tags, movement licences and one of Jessica's nappies. That would scare away anything. For good.

Updated: 11:25 Wednesday, February 12, 2003