On the morning of Herself’s anniversary, I texted The Brother, suggesting he might like to run a marathon, cycle for many, many miles, or eat a square of chocolate. Whatever it took to make him feel good that day.
My plans were already made. Nana and Grandad had arranged afternoon tea at Down Hall. The real thing- with clotted cream, cucumber sandwiches and tiny buns. Girl1 and Girl2 stared somewhat askance at the sandwiches; why would anybody in their right mind even consider eating smoked salmon? Maybe there were chicken nuggets hiding somewhere? They were mollified by multiple dainty items.
The sun was out and there were grounds to explore. Chess to muddle at, tennis courts on which to practise ball girl skills.
We alternated between the sofas at the huge stone fireplace and wandering about feeling to the manner born.
My imagination was happy to provide the grins of approval from the departed.