I dos – and I don’ts
While his nephew forsakes all others and his daughter forsakes meat, Philip howard finds the fact that there’s no space at the inn is, on this occasion, a blessing
What a difference a month makes. In my previous article I was contemplating peace and tranquillity amongst the bluebells; 30 days later, it’s armageddon week – the howard’s Way, involving dead things, food and weddings.
the crisis opened with a real disaster: my wonderful mother-in-law was admitted to hospital at 2am on her 84th birthday with a suspected heart attack. this showcased everything most brilliant and desperate in the NHS. a two-hour ambulance wait, eight hours on a trolley in a corridor, superb trauma staff who immediately fitted her with a pacemaker, bureaucratic confusion on an epic scale about a release date, fabulous GPS but an aftercare plan that social services presumably are still mulling over a couple of months later. My only real gripe was that the consultant didn’t fit the new pacemaker with the on/off switch that I had suggested.
With the hospital’s four-hour warning of the imminent release of the mother-inlaw, an emergency parliament of friends and family was convened. We decided that we would move the parents-in-law into a luxury, one-bedroomed, ground-floor flat in the castle that I had just created for rental while my building team disappeared for a month to revamp their house. Meanwhile, some of their amazing friends rallied around to provide night cover to allow me to travel 400 miles down to Kent to attend the wedding of my nephew.
Realising that all work and no play could make Phil a dull boy, we (I had my 20-yearold daughter fresh from her first year at Glasgow University with me) decided that a brief stop to visit my friend Mr taxidermist would be of benefit, especially as I had a consignment of frozen moles to deliver. We left with a very large stuffed tarantula and a couple of huge insects designed to traumatise godchildren. I think we can chalk the visit down as a success, though there were some unintended consequences as by the start of the wedding weekend my daughter announced she intended to become a vegan, with immediate effect. I felt this could have been more to do with the influence of my green communist niece, who is currently involved with saving the indigenous population of the Philippines, than the sight of Lassie, the stuffed collie in Mr taxidermist’s bedroom, though I could have been wrong.
the wedding weekend proved traumatic, more so I fear for my nephew’s delightful inlaws, who got their first viewing, so to speak, of the enemy. None of our chaotic family had bothered to reply to the invitation, with the exception of me, but then I had to bunk off early, missing the speeches, as the Media Queen needed to return to Oxford. I had given up my bedroom at the country pub where the family had gathered as my son had failed to confirm his room. this proved to be a godsend as I subsequently missed the drama of the wedding night.
My son, having drunk the place dry, managed to procure the bride and groom’s wedding car and driver to take him from the reception back to the inn. Finding the doors locked he grabbed what he thought were a few pebbles to scatter against an upstairs window to arouse my niece. Unfortunately, his handful of pebbles included a portion of broken ashtray that fizzed through the window of his snoring aunt, resulting in an explosion of glass and hysterical screaming.
the next morning I arrived to find a scene from a PG Wodehouse novel. My somewhat chastened son was lurking in the beer garden, where he had spent the night having been sent there by his furious aunt, who had luckily departed by then to have the pieces of shattered ashtray removed from her hair. My daughter, without the influence of her cousin, was tucking into a large sausage, advising us that she was about to embark on a career as an ethical vegan, which she felt could include contented pigs and, if I lent her my rifle, home-sourced rabbits.
and then home to hear my parentsin-law tell me they are really enjoying it here and could do with another month’s rest and recuperation…
Unfortunately, his handful of pebbles included a portion of broken ashtray that fizzed through the window of his snoring aunt