ST VALENTINE'S DAY
The Fire Brigade have rung. The cause of our little conflagration would seem to be a ‘gnawed flex’ on the freezer.
‘Mice?’ I ask, ‘Rats?’
They said something rather larger was to blame…Oh dear Brexit, you are a very naughty dog.
We won’t tell Crichton unless he asks, but just in case, I determined to spoil him a little on Valentine’s Day. The fund raiser was my main concern of course, but I still had time to find him a little treat…a dear little bear with a blue nose.
I know he pretends not to like these things but after so many years, I know he does really. He has quite a collection on his bedside table now. And then I saw a teensy helium balloon in the card shop to add to the surprise…customised in glitter ink, with I LOVE YOU LITTLE BEAR. He will adore it.
I dashed to Paula’s at two for planning meeting. She seems to have thought of everything. Her daughter has even found some heart shaped tinsel to decorate the tables. The hall is booked for the whole day on Thursday which will give us plenty of setting up time and Cook can simmer the lamb shanks all afternoon. Then Paula decided at the last moment that we must have a raffle. I’m sure we decided against it at the last meeting, but she and Norma were adamant that we need the extra funds.
I offered the Christmas pudding that Jerome won at the Advent Fayre as a prize and was turned down as flat as a bed sheet. Such ingratitude.
St Valentine’s day itself was much the same as ever. Three cards for Alyona, one for Cook, and nothing for yours truly, so no change there, but Crichton divvied up a box of beastly Ferrero Rocher that will do very nicely for the raffle. He had left them on the sideboard in a One Stop carrier bag last night and announced with a smug smile that I mustn’t open them until today.
At least he has made an effort this year.
I hope Crichton liked my little surprise gift. He didn’t ring to thank me, but I expect he was busy ‘networking’ with Alexander and the chaps.
I was due to meet Paula and the other girls at the hall at 10.30, but when we arrived there was no sign of Edith Noakes with the key. It’s not like her to forget a booking so Norma popped round to see what was what, and found her on the floor in her back kitchen with a broken hip and the keys in her hand. By the time the ambulance, her son had been called, and the poor old love had been taken off to The General, it was gone twelve and the lamb shanks were well behind schedule.
No matter.
The troops rallied, and we had tables set and bunting up in record time. With just the cheesecakes left to do, the girls came over after lunch to finish them off. We had quite a little production line going with me on crumb base, Paula with the topping and Norma finishing with a raspberry and a chocolate heart. I had to be very firm with Crichton who wanted to test them out. He’s very quiet. I do hope he’s not sickening for something.
The dinner was a huge success with not a spare seat to be had…apart from Edith’s obviously.
I was slightly miffed as Rev Colin has refused Jerome’s lovely grace and we had to make do with ‘For what we are about to receive etc. They should be truly grateful too, after all our hard work, but we have cleared over £800, so well worth the heart ache over the gravy in the end.
We shall get the new kitchen and the lavatories, into St Apollonia’s by the end of the year at this rate.
Crichton behaved nicely and won the raffle. Why he didn’t choose the sack of dog food or the bottle of Famous Grouse instead of those wretched Ferrero Rochers, I’ll never understand.
They are back on the side board again.
Crichton Comments
Cynthia and her girlies really do a great job on the old fund raising, but I wish she wouldn’t always seat me next to Colin Childers. He can’t help being a priest, I suppose, but just occasionally it would be fun to share a joke with someone with a more profane sense of humour.
A tolerable evening all things considered.
I’d gone up to town early for a main board meeting, so left some chocs on the sideboard for Cynthia to find when she came down for breakfast. Ferrero Rocher. I know how much she likes them, so brownie points for me.
When I opened my briefcase, I found she had enclosed another vile fur toy, this year holding a balloon painted with some sentimental rubbish! It floated up on a blue ribbon to the delight of fellow board members.
Why does she do these things?
Of course, Alex and the others roared with laughter and I was obliged to quell them with a round of drinks after work. I shall never live it down and I am punishing Cynthia by refusing to speak to her. I don’t think she has even noticed.
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