Want to party? Come on down, then,to the Preselis.Yes, that's right. Forget La La Land. The Preselis is where it's at, believe me. Bring a sleeping bag and you canboogy woogy with the best of them, every Friday and Saturday night, all year round.

Glandwr, Hermon, Hebron, Rhydlewis, Pentre Scagal, Penybont, Rhydyybont, Cwmscwt.Lay your head under any convenient kitchen table, or on someone's settee- (chuck the cushions on the floor and presto! double the sleeping accommodation, a bit like the Great Bed of Ware, in which fifteen people were crammed; they were twtsin those days.)

Well, the examinations are over, you see, not that they've hinderedmy twingrandsons when it comes to the weekend jollies, no, not at all. They're Party People. Regular Fries.

They've sailed through their course work and examinations, dim trwbwl o gwbwl,if you listen to them, that is.

Take the course work. Meant to be spread out over a few terms,it so happened that one day, by happy chance,one of them remembered there waswork they'd forgotten about.It had to be in by

1 o'clock the following day.

'How much is there leftto do?'

'Quite a lot.'

'Quite a lot?'

My voice wenta bit squeaky. I wasasked what I was stressing about. There were twenty four hours left, after all.

'What about bed?' I enquired,only to be met withamused looks.

(That old joke about the doctor who failed his examinations because they werea day early came into my mind. But we were talking late, not early.)

The boys commandeered the kitchen table, one at each end. At eleven o'clock the weary parents were told to stop fussing and ordered to bed. My grandsons had puta mattress on the floor, and were going to take turns in having a rest;the cat was already stretchedout overhalf of it.

11.10 pm anddisaster struck. The Pritstick(glue) ran out. The front door had to be unlocked, unbolted, unchained. The boysranto Tesco.Back by 11.30, they'd boughtsandwiches and Red Bull to keep them going. The door was locked, double bolted, chained again.

Next morning,9.30am when I arrived, things were still on-going and hope hadn't faded, not with Harry and Oliver, anyway.

'No worries, we'll get it in'.

My daughterlooked hollow eyed and kept asking 'How did this happen?', over and over again,but otherwise showed remarkable constraint.

Iwas showna receipt for computer cartridges. Tesco again, 4.20 am.

I looked at the two of them. They read my thoughts. The door, the locks, the chain. . .

'We climbed over the back wall (ten feet high) so wedidn't disturb Mum and Dad withthe front door'.

'How did youclimb back in?' (The drop the other side is steeper). One 'hwped' the other up and hereached down and pulled his brother up.

Incidentally, the work got in on time.

'What did your tutor say?'

'She seemed surprised'.

'Incredulous, youmean?'

'You worry too much.'

'Ie, siwr'.

My daughter gave me a piercing look: 'D'you understand now why I feel tired?'

'They're Genius', I replied. 'They could havehigh-powered jobs. They've demonstrated they can work under pressure without cracking'.

'Mum, are you mad? You're alwaysexcusing those two. They need to do some work.'

Never mind. They're off to art school in September.

Pob lwc, bois. Somehow,you'll manage.