I am sure you are all agog to know the conclusion of the Red Wine Stain Story with which I regaled you yesterday. Amazingly, as a result of my scientific approach and copious scoopfuls of powder from a tub promising 100% stain removal, the Crimson Evidence
has, well, VANISHed.
I do wish I had taken before and after photographs because, along with the "back story" (Golden Wedding, Afternoon Tea, just enough white tablecloths, potential disaster averted) it could have been a PR person's dream. I might
have earned myself a lifetime's supply of stain removal powder, making future spillages almost something to be welcomed.
Daily Blog readers Delia and Jim had feared the worst - so when Delia turned up at our fortnightly Nomination Whist session
this afternoon, she was as delighted as only a good friend can be to see the quite staggering results. Obviously she hadn't seen the stain in all its crimson glory but she was sure I wouldn't have been exaggerating. Which doesn't exactly go without saying
on every occasion, but was true this time. She related a similar experience to Mr B's unfortunate spillage, also involving red wine, in a local pub restaurant. This had added embarrassment value, on account of being in public, but fortunately no after effects
involving a tub of stain removal and four hours of soaking before a final wash. For the tablecloth, not for Delia, don't be silly.
Everyone at Nomination Whist is excited about our trip to Buckingham Palace tomorrow for a Garden Party to celebrate
the 150th anniversary of Barnardo's. Would we see the Queen, they all want to know? I explain that our event is being hosted by the Duchess of Cornwall; presumably Her Maj will be lying low after yesterday's embarrassment of having a private conversation picked
up by eavesdropping microphones and broadcast to the Wide World via television. I shall be very, very careful tomorrow afternoon not to voice anything the least bit controversial and, as a further precaution, will keep Mr B's mouth crammed with cucumber sandwiches.
Every so often while we are playing, my car alarm goes off outside. It is very, well, alarming. Ted says that he is sure I have set the alarm to go off in order to put him off his stride. As I am doing extremely badly, if I had been so devious then
it would have been an Epic Failure of Deviousness. If there is, indeed, such a word.
That starts us off on a discussion about the current row over SATS tests; we all agree that, while we are sure we could probably work out the answers (due to
our collective Great Age we feel honour bound to make this somewhat extravagant claim), none of us can even begin to understand the terminology in which the questions have been framed.
Mind you, we all remember the trials of the Eleven-Plus (or
"The Scholarship", as my parents termed it.) Test papers in English, Mathematics and IQ plus a composition - all, in my case, at a test centre in the local secondary school, in a hall with desks set out in serried ranks. And I - like the rest of us - was only
10. Ted says he never wanted to pass the 11-plus anyway, on account of the horrible maroon blazer he would have to wear if he succeeded. Margaret says she didn't want to leave her friends. We all have our stories to tell. That's what I love most about our
Nomination Whist afternoons. That and the laughter.
I explain my plans for the forthcoming U3A Open Day where all our interest groups are expected to put on some kind of demonstration. My idea is that during our hour-long slot we will play a game
of Nomination Whist but it will be a kind of Paul Jones or Excuse Me - so that with every new hand a fresh player can ask to take over someone's hand. Mr B feels quite strongly that this will be a Recipe for Disaster - but everyone else says they think it
will be fun. They don't sound super confident about it but they are Loyal to their Leader. As in, me.
Mr B scores 162 in his second game of the afternoon; it is our all-time highest score in the three years we have been meeting and it has to be
said that he is not unduly modest about this Stellar Achievement.
Given the opportunity, it will be something to share with Camilla tomorrow afternoon...