I forwarded Don’s email to Bea at work yesterday and she rang me almost immediately in the middle of what sounded like a meeting – Blackberries can be a curse and a blessing I should think. “Darling, they’re giving you carte blanch to spend their money and hang the consequences! I think you should go VIP all the way, they can clearly afford it.” she said as someone with a booming voice droned on about “market forces”. I also forwarded it to Charlie in response to her emailed question “What are you up to?”. She thinks that it’s a dead cert invitation to Vancouver, all expenses paid and can she come too. She then clogged up the whole email system of the hospital by emailing me a link to the Vancouver tourist website that did something nasty to their firewall.
Am I reading the email wrong?
David was slightly more to the point when I showed it to him last night. “You’ll run yourself ragged, spend a fortune and start saying things like “Oh my Gahd!” and “have a nice day y’all”. He’d had a trying day “trying to fit round pegs in square holes”, but even so.
Bea rang this morning and held a conversation with me and her PA which went something like this:
Bea: I’ve just rung dad, I’ve said we’ll host the family party as long as certain elements are kept away. Skinny latte please darling and some of those dinky little cinnamon biscuits.
Me: I know, he’s told me.
Bea: Cinnamon! Also, I think you should avoid the usual touristy places, you’ll end up getting mugged by street urchins and photographed by Japanese tourists.
Me: I often wonder how many pictures I appear in. Strange to think that there’s a nice American family who visited Hampton Court at the same time as us this summer that has me in their picture of Anne Boleyn’s Court in an album on their coffee table.
Bea: yes, well, you’re strange like that. Are they cinnamon?
Me: well, I think it’s exciting and what tourist comes to London and doesn’t see the House of Parliament? Or Horseguard’s Parade? Or Trafalgar Square, or, or, or……
Bea: well, on your head be it. Do you need my help? No, the little ones in the red tin that Judith bought in from Harrods.
Me: They want to go to Harrods - we could have a shopping day that I suppose you could help with.
Bea: Eurgh, this isn’t a skinny latte.
Dad’s a bit worried because he’s already mentioned the party to the family, including the “certain elements” Bea is referring to.
I won’t tell her that until nearer the time.