It’s true: after a married life of Extreme Separation for many years, I have got so used to having my beloved right at home that his upcoming absence is worthy of a blog post. He is taking himself off to Dublin, as in Ireland, on Saturday for four whole days.
Well, he will be joining a group, of like-minded devotees of Irish Georgian Architecture, for a series of learned lectures (is there any other kind), tours of houses normally closed to the public, plates of indigestible Irish food and who knows what sort o’ mayhem.
We’ve had many lively discussions among our friends as to the probable nature of his fellow symposiasts. I vote for Little Old Ladies who thought gardens were included in the tour. Annie says, wet-blanket-like but undoubtedly right, Old Men Who Always Wanted To Be Architects But Inherited Father’s Accountant Firm. John’s holding out for A-level students (as in, age 17, and GIRLS) who just cannot be torn away from a Robert Adam ceiling and think 46 is actually the new 28. I say, in for a penny in for a pound, and he should be prepared for any eventuality. When I think of the social consequences of my own sweet little Devon sojourn with food writers a year or so ago… lifelong dinner companions and houseguests whenever I’m lucky enough for them to arrive in London! Birthday wishes for my small daughter! Could the same be possible with John’s adventure?
He filled out the “extra supplement for single room” with far too much glee, I fear. New friendships will have to leap out at him (and they will, since he is quite irresistible) in order for anything much to transpire. But I thought, “Hey, there might be someone on the tour who is in desperate need for a financial genius to run his estate.” As in possibly the man hosting the first night’s dinner at his… castle?
A murder is a definite possibility. The catering company hired to feed the symposiasts has, on its staff, the hidden, never-acknowledged heir to the entire estate of The Castle, and he/she (the disguise is really complete) has lived his/her entire life waiting for revenge, in the form of an inheritance. One person’s portion of wild funghi risotto is not what it seems…
We shall miss him. Four days of my being responsible for the entire household (consisting of one quite independent child and four cats, admittedly). I shall have to get her to riding, skating, acting, musical rehearsals, school on Monday AND Tuesday… not to mention laundry, meal preparation, sympathetic listening to all issues… oh wait. I shall be doing precisely what all my friends without at-home husbands are doing EVERY day.
I know I can do it. And think how entertaining he’ll be on Tuesday when he gets back. Unless he can’t make bail for that murder…Print This Post
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