LIKE VINTAGE WINE - AGED BUT PERFECT

“Telephone!”

“I’ll get it”

“Hello: it’s Grace: I’m coming to see you for the weekend.”

“ When are you coming?”

“Thursday. I shall be arriving at Long Buckby station at 13.57”.

“O.K. I’ll be there. When are you going back?”

“The following Wednesday”.

“See you”.

I know I shall see her, but it will not be at 13.57 unless a miracle occurs. What time she will be going back is anyone’s guess. She has been all over the world, much of the time as a lone traveller. How she arrived or returned is one of life’s great mysteries. An intrepid traveller - Australia, Tasmania, Canada, New York, Morocco, Leeds - she has little fear; although she wouldn’t come from Haywards Heath via Camden – “don’t like Camden” or return via London Bridge – “don’t like London Bridge”.

“Telephone!”

“Got it!”

“Hello: it’s Alison. I tried to ring just now but you were engaged”.

“I know: Grace was on the ‘phone: she’s coming for the weekend”.

“Haven’t seen Grace for a long time: I’ll come up on Friday for the weekend.”

“When are you going back?”

“Sunday”.

“Who was that?”

“Grace and Alison: they are coming for a long weekend; one to tell us how to do everything and the other to explain how we are doing everything wrong!”

“We could go out to eat one night and then to Warwick for the Street Festival on Saturday and have a long lunch at Il Piccolino’s and eat at home one night”.

“What a good idea: we can wear them out so that they will sleep most of the rest of the time. In any case Grace will be in the bathroom for half the time she is here. Now that Alison is coming I must go through the pantry, frig and freezer to make sure nothing is an hour over its sell-by date”.

“ Do you think we and the people they talk about are as odd or difficult as they make out?”

“Not us, that’s for sure. Can’t think of anyone more perfect”.