19th December
With Paulet Manor in full festive mood, and Spencer tasked with wrapping all the presents for staff and family, I ventured out to a little Christmas function by myself. As you can imagine I get many invitations from various organisations and groups to attend their Christmas events, so I dressed up in my sparkly frock, put on some of the Paulet-Halt heirlooms and made my way to a Basingstoke hotel for what was billed as a dinner and dance.
The evening started promisingly with a welcoming glass of champagne. We were shown to our seats, and we put on our Christmas hats and pulled our crackers. I was seated with some very interesting people and the conversation was convivial. After a lovely three course meal (with wine) served by polite and courteous hotel staff, not unlike those at the Manor, it was time for the dance. I must confess that it is quite a time since I went to a dance, because quite frankly it is not Spencer’s “scene”. Thinking back, probably the last dance I went to was the Young Farmer’s Harvest dance before I was married. That was over 24 years ago, because as you know it is our Silver Wedding next year. Anyway, as the music started, I made my way to the dance floor, ready for a quickstep or the like. Readers might not know that I was short listed for this current season of Strictly Come Dancing, as one of the celebrities of course. Imagine my horror, therefore when others around me started to wiggle and gyrate like something from Top of the Pops (a show that is not watched at the Manor). Of course I did recognise some of the “hits” such as ABBA, and that nice George Michael chap, but as the evening wore on, I found myself thinking that the music being played was not like anything I had heard before. I was beginning to wish that I hadn’t just been to the Doctors to have my ears syringed, when a nice young man sat down next to me. I leaned over and asked him what this sort of music was called as I wasn’t familiar with the “modern genre”. He told me that I was listening to a mixture of garage, house and techno music. I must admit that I thought that garage music was something on Radio 4 that Spencer listened to when he was tinkering with the Bentley. By this time my head was banging, and the young chap told me this was normal. He even offered to give me a tablet that he assured me would make me ecstatic (at least I think that was what he said). I declined politely, saying that I had some Paracetamol in my evening bag that would do the trick nicely.
By about 11.30, I had had enough. I just don’t seem to be able to keep going on the dance floor like I used to. I gave Spencer a ring to come and pick me up in the Bentley. He does have his uses as a designated driver - something perhaps we should all think about over Christmas.
Have a lovely Christmas, and tune in next week to find out how we celebrated Christmas at the Manor.