Monday 25th March 2024

The second event was in the former gathering place of the followers of Our Lady of Prompt Succour, now re-purposed for village use. The Gay Mother conceived an enthusiasm for the function and commanded that 80 should be invited. A boy I was at Primary with these days is a water diviner. Well I remember when he broke his leg. Now he is a strange pagan presence.

The central table was heaped from the bakers – sausage rolls, vegetable pasties, scones with cream and jam, brownies, jam tarts… But the cake was almost forgotten. Goodly ladies managed the whole thing. Except the cutting of the cake. I did a little fear transgression. What to do with the excess? Could it be given to the Poor? I said. No – because laid out for over two hours. Nevertheless tremendous cling-filming was underway at the conclusion. A man even was recruited for cling-filming and suffered one of those terrible cling-film crises where his sheet got twisted then he didn’t make a clean break and couldn’t start again because a narrow strip had rolled round the roll and the cling-film roll wouldn’t roll out but tore diagonally across.

Never mind! All that extra food was spirited away and never heard of again. What a mercy!

The wife of the man from the water board helped me hack and fling round the cake, though. How awful if it had been forgotten and never served.

We took the best silver tray for the donations to be placed on. But really in the village we’re just in the village. Our ownership is elsewhere and not mentioned. Royston King attended from London. His arrival was by 1st Class train, paid for by the Royal Family to all intents and purposes. Others who go to London were present, but some have never been.

Royston was recognised. ‘I know that voice,’ they said. ‘TV,’ I said. But the stir was also curiosity that the Gay Mother should have a diverse aspect. Otherwise, unfortunately, diversity was reduced to zero, although not deliberately.

Terrific banter. Royston set to and made a sensation. The village had never know such liveliness, such exhortation and dispute.

We didn’t leave until 7.30. ‘Who were you talking to?’ the Gay Mother said afterwards. I must have been doing something for 3 and half hours. There wasn’t a dull moment. The Gay Mother was initially rather ranged in a row with other elderly people round the walls. Gifts were bestowed but from whom? Later she worked the room and ate nothing. Only at the very end did she say, ‘Suddenly I fancy a jam tart.’

There was worry that the only rellies attending wouldn’t fit in. I managed to introduce Cousin Willoughby to the KC – I thought they’d form a legal corner, especially when the wife of a High Court Judge was added. But they didn’t. They formed a dog corner. How they roared re: dogs.

Royston was everywhere. Affairs, history, Cressida Dick… what topics. And answering back too. Oh yes, don’t think that just because they’re rural, they don’t have opinions. Far from it. The gamekeeper was there – although to look at indistinguishable from the poacher. At times the Gay Mother has been borderline no-speaks with him on account of the pheasants. But now she found out he is from Wiltshire – not the North as supposed. So quite a different view.

The only people who weren’t present were the Aristocracy – otherwise the complete spectrum, all of village life. The Vicar turned out to be a big strapping fellow with two sons under ten who couldn’t believe their luck with the tea table. If only they’d brought their friends. They said that they were always being told by their father that they were about to leave then not leaving. Their existence was hanging about, waiting, having left themselves. Oddly they were called Kelm and Ivo, like Laura Malcolm’s offspring – but the wrong way round as to age.

Royston made a point of them; they must have had one of the first important conversations of their lives. What an amazing ‘My day yesterday’ they would have had the next day in their Primary – ‘We went to an 100th birthday tea party and met a diverse person who is incredibly matey with the King and Alan Titchmarsh.’

That Primary would have been stunned to silence. Those boys will grow up to be elevated to the Lords now.

Royston said it was very wrong to refer to the Poor re: giving away the extra food. The Gay Mother said many of the guests she had not recognised, their hair had turned white, in the interim of her having last seen them.

This was later when we got home and had a casserole. What a function. I was laid out with having got through it all in one piece

I forgot to mention the astonishing DIY episode when Robert Nevil and the Maharaja got so deeply involved with the cupboard door coming off in the Gay Mother’s kitchen. Who’d have thought those brain-boxes from the literary and Insta world would have had a DIY aspect? But there they were, calling for more screw-drivers. They were at it for 40 minutes easily – all in vain alas.

After her other 100th birthday party, the Gay Mother said, ‘I’m sure I saw Aunt Ida’s teapot going about.’ ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘You did indeed.’ There were further silver teapots that couldn’t be put to use on account of preciousness. Aunt Ida was one of the Gay Mother’s great-aunts.

No more silver teapots now. Thank the merciful we’re now safely on the post-100th birthday pathway, whatever that might be.