Bunty Takes Sanctuary at the Manor

TWELFTH NIGHT -  TWO HANGOVERS, ONE TREE AND A LOT OF NAME TAPES

I'm worried about Arraminta. She's so wild.

The twins arrived back from the last party of the season by taxi just after eleven this morning and both looked like they needed a good bath and an Aspirin. 
   ‘Did you have a nice evening, darlings?’ I said in my best non-confrontational mother voice.

   ‘She did,’ said Jerome and dumped a carrier bag down on the table.
   Arraminta rolled her eyes, ‘Boring!’
   ‘Don’t say she, dear. Your sister does have a name.’
   ‘OK, Ma. She…the one they call Arraminta Trehorlicks, got very, very drunk indeed and threw up on my cashmere sweater. It’s in there,’ he said and nudged the bag. ‘And I’m not going to be the one to wash it.’
   ‘Well don’t look at me,’ retorted his sister. ‘Nobody asked you to hang around all night getting in the way.’
   ‘It’s a bloody good job I was hanging around all night, or you’d be in the nick and Dad would be down there coughing up your bail money.’
    Apparently, they’d started sensibly enough, at a party with Snubby and Kate, moved on to shots at the ‘Hawk and Coffer’ and finished up in town  dancing up and down the wall by the public library, singing the theme tune to Fireman Sam. 

So far so good.

   ‘Then the warden of the sheltered housing called the police when she fell into the residents’ garden and snapped off some stupid tree,’ Jerome informed me.

   'Not the memorial Ginko tree?' I was horrified. The princess Royal planted that when she came to visit.

   ‘Ginko? Blinko? Who cares?’ said Arraminta.   

   As a matter of fact I care very much indeed. In fact I’m thoroughly ashamed of her. While I freely admit that her father and I occasionally have one too many, we do it at home with friends, never in public. I guessed by the pale green of my daughter’s face that she probably wasn't taking in my wise words and I didn’t want a repeat performance of the sweater incident, so I let it go but she really does have to learn some restraint. The sooner she goes back to school the better.

Crichton said I was just as bad at that age which I deny but that’s not the point. He'll  be the first to complain when we get the bill for a replacement tree and bottles of Sanatogen all round, to make amends.

 Later, when the twins had had a chance to recover, we took the decorations down . If Crichton had his way, the tree would stay up all year. I’ve never known such a man for baubles and a bit of tinsel, and Jerome and Arraminta egg him on, eating the chocolates while he isn’t looking, which maddens him beyond words. We dragged the tree out into the garden for Stubbins to deal with next week. He loves a bonfire but this one had got so dry by the radiator that there's a fair chance it will spontaneously combust before he gets to it. Inside the house, we're awash with pine needles and although I’d scooped up the worst of them in a dustpan, I know Altona will be complaining that they get stuck in her socks when she’s vacuuming. If I’ve told her once, I’ve told her a hundred times to keep her shoes on. You never know what you might step in now dear Brexit has joined the family. I’m sure we will get him house trained eventually. 

The rest of the day was dreary. The twins had lost their spark again and there wasn’t a thing worth watching on the TV, plus I had the unenviable task of sewing the last of the name tapes into Arraminta’s new underwear. Who knows what happened to the dozen pairs of knickers from last term? I do so miss the old days with Nanny. She was a darling and loved doing them.
I asked Cricton politely if he had added to the diary today and was rewarded with a growl worthy of Brexit, who was happily gnawing on the leg of the Knowle sofa. ‘Go on darling, just try a few words, that’s all it takes,’ I coaxed, and left him with the book at his elbow. I hope he won't let us down.

Crichton comments

When did Dr Who become a female? I liked Tom Baker. You know where you are with a Dalek.