As you know by now, it was my mum’s 80th birthday this weekend and what a splendid affair it turned out to be. 24 people took over a lovely hotel and a smallish function room and, as proof of the amount of preparation made, had a wonderful and emotional evening.
The event started in the bar – of course – and I swanned down looking, I thought, rather svelte although if the video footage is anything to go by, I was a little mistaken. I would describe my appearance as I read my poem to my mother with my reading glasses at the end of my nose, as plump and middle aged. Ah well.
I had been up to our room to collect my glasses after an event in the bar. I was sipping my champagne when the waitress offered me a very blurry dish of nuts and olives. I chose the smallest nut and popped it into my mouth. It was an olive stone! Some ignorant person (fancy me having such a person in my family) had spat out their stone and PUT IT BACK IN THE DISH! You know who you are.
The following morning and feeling a little the worse for wear – although not as bad as some – our bedroom began to resemble a railway station as people arrived with Christmas presents for us to take home with us. Then my mobile telephone (cell phone) began to ring. As usual I wasn’t wearing my glasses so couldn’t see who was ringing. I thrust the phone into Whizz’s face and demanded in frustration ‘Who’s this calling me now?’
He squinted his eyes to focus on the screen, an enquiring expression on his face. ‘It’s err…’ his face changed to one of astonishment ‘ME!’.