Great to catch up in person today with my fellow Countrywives. Lots of buzzy conversation on many topics including art foundation courses, ubiquitous technology, and how no-one seems to have Christmas drinks parties any more (or perhaps we aren’t very popular?) . Thanks for a delicious lunch Annabel – especially the ‘warm-from-the-Aga” lemon polenta cake which officially confirms you have achieved your goal of being one of those superwomen who can bake something divine as easily and quickly as it takes me to put my mascara on.
Ellie was very wise to set off back to Spa Town before dark, unlike yours truly who stayed on for a cup of tea before leaving Henley. Despite precise directions from Annabel, I missed my turn to the A4 (it was pitch black by now) and blindly put my faith into my new Tom Tom. With hindsight, I really should have read the instructions and programmed it to take me via motorways rather than every industrial estate, minor road and busy town it can find. Not sure about the irritating bleeping noise it makes when I am anywhere near approaching a speed limit either. Anyhow, keen to get home, I followed Tom’s verbal directions as I nipped from one small Berkshire town to another. It took all my (ever decreasing) powers of concentration to keep on the right road and take the right roundabout exits. Tom kept shouting “Reprogramming, Reprogramming”, not sure why. As more time ticked by, and no motorway loomed ahead to whisk me home on familiar tarmac, I began to question whether Tom knew where I lived. “Please let me see a sign to Guildford” was my slightly anxious mantra. Husband called me on mobile, (figured it was OK to clamp it to my ear as no-one can see you are breaking the law when it’s dark); I tried to sound cheery “Yes darling, just on my way home from Annabel’s – how was your day?” when I really was desperate to say”Help, I’m being abducted to Croydon.” Just as the rush hour traffic joined me, Tom came up trumps and I arrived in Guildford. I was very relieved to be on the home stretch (apart from needing the loo) and so, with clutched thighs, I made it safely back home to my darling dogs and, surprisingly, three Christmas drinks’ invitations.