I know I’ve used this quote before, but the 2017 version runs ‘ if I build it, they will come.’ And how lucky that was, since it rained all day long. The day before was fine. I dare say today will also be fine.
But as I said, we had built the new room, so not only was it spider-free and dry (i.e. no rain indoors, not no wine), but it was big enough to house another load of starved (well, why else would they come?) children’s authors, distaff side, whom I had optimistically invited to lunch.
The Resident IT Consultant ran a [free] taxi service from and back to the station. I furnished him with descriptions of what people ought to look like. Which is a little hard when I hadn’t necessarily met them myself.
These kind people arrived bearing chocolates, bottles, home baking and flowers. They really didn’t have to. But it is much appreciated.
Whereas not only am I the kind of host who forgets to pour more tea or wine, but before most of the guests arrived I sat down and ate a pakora, or two, right in front of Helen Grant, who for technical reasons arrived early. I was hungry. And the Indian delivery service had sent more than I ordered.
We talked about a lot of things, like how we prefer to hang socks when washed. Paired, colour-coded, neatly, or any old way. You can make new friends when you discover you share views on how to deal with socks. I added my thoughts on how to load the dishwasher.
It seems there is something called Zombie running. And you might meet someone who wrote the books your children used to adore, causing a minor fan situation.
At times (nearly the whole time, in fact) the sound levels rose so high it was virtually impossible to hear about socks, let alone anything else. Everyone’s secrets are perfectly safe.
And they left, mentioning ‘next year.’