Tea for the Wild Indians...part 1

At the programme planning meeting nearly 12 months ago it seemed like a good idea. Afternoon Tea here, for the WI. It appeared to be a plan which would kill a number of birds with one stone; a 'visit', usually to a garden, and a 'tea' at this time of year have precedents with Marton WI, but these days a number of members have mobility problems and are reluctant to venture out on a journey to a garden they are probably not going to be able to explore. 'Come here instead' I said by way of invitation 'Have Afternoon Tea', - knowing that if nothing else the curiosity factor would swell the guest list. Along the way the Senior Citizens got invited too....

It was here after all that Aunt Susan lived - if not actually in our barn - but in the 'big house' which stands above us. Aunt Susan and her husband Tom are linked by blood or marriage to almost everyone I meet. If I cannot establish a blood link then almost certainly the person I speak to has delivered feed, or pitched corn up into the room which is now our bedroom. I wait to be told whether or not a bull once lived in our sitting room. Everybody has their own tale to tell about Lower House.

Invitations have gone out and replies trickle in. Invitations themselves are a minefield - the criteria for inclusion are obscure. There will be those who will be mortally offended to receive an invitation and on the other hand some will be deeply hurt to have been omitted from the list. (Social engineering is difficult isn't it?) I have decided - grandly - that it is My Party and that I shall invite whoever I want. So there. (Stamps foot petulantly.)

But OMG - it's on Saturday, almost too close for comfort. We're meeting tomorrow to discuss food and I think things on plates will all be achievable.

But the garden? The garden looks a wreck - how wonderful it was only a month ago - a picture of colour, shape, form and interest. I mutter a little mantra of 'lawns and edges' - surely if they look neat that's half the battle? Make a mental note to get Alan behind the lawn mower on Thursday. Weed. Weed like a thing demented. Resist temptation to strategically plant artificial flowers. Thank goodness Chris has booked a Magician to entertain us all. That will be a distraction. I've spent the day snipping and shaping, tugging out weeds - doing a general tidy up. More of the same tomorrow I think.

....Wild Indians? - Women's Institute. How Richmal Crompton/Just William is that? I think that's what we called that formidable band of women when we were kids. Just look at me now....