WHOEVER sows the wild wind shall reap the whirlwind. That chap in his glasshouse should not throw stones; those chickens will come home to roost.

Oh how true those words ring. It seems like only last year that I was devoting column inches to complaining about freeloaders coming over to visit us and take advantage of our sunshine and swimming pool, leaving nothing behind but a packet of chocolate Hobnobs and a pile of laundry.

How those sarcastic lines came back to haunt me when I received a call from our ex-neighbours at Charlton Down, Rick and Christine. Rick works as an engineering manager for British Airways and tends to get posted around the world, from Dubai to Moscow, but is currently residing just outside New York and Christine works as a feng shui consultant. These interesting postings did of course lead to a little freeloading on the part of Trev and Sue, who may well have profited from a week in Dubai visiting the Ritz Carlton, and a short week in NY with a visit to Broadway, allegedly. Well, that chicken was definitely coming home to roost when Christine declared their intention to visit our dusty corner of the back end of beyond.

I am not saying that Christine is posh, but her bags have bags, she has a shoe collection to rival Imelda Marcos. She makes Margot from the Good Life seem like a bit of rough - not to mention Rick's walk-in closet to house his collection of designer polo shirts.

In order to make a good impression, as we had to start preparing, their visit was given a codename The Queen's visit', and preparations were made.

Half finished jobs were finished. The slightly dodgy temporary handrail around the decking was made good (A poor impression is always left when guests fall several metres to death or disability). We adopted the military approach - if it moves salute it, if it doesn't, paint it. In this way, jobs that had been hanging around for months got done in hours.

The red carpet was laid, the cats were polished - and then they arrived. Did they complain about the lack of a branch of Fortnum & Masons in the area or lack of valet parking? Did they hell - they did the same as everybody else, slipping into swimming duds and pyjamas. They loafed about the house, ate, drank, made merry and enjoyed themselves.

I got my workforce over to work on our personal ruins at the bottom of the garden for a couple of days. Christine did manage to modify the daily sandwich free-for-all by the addition of napkins and renaming it corporate luncheon. I was almost compelled to discuss strategy but managed to hold myself back. And then, just as they were about to leave, my sister and her husband arrived. (Now they are real freeloaders).

But hang on, who always puts us up when we visit the UK? I'm going to have to build a barn for all these chickens.