Husband suggested we take a stroll to Powerscourt, this ancient Irish house, with wonderful gardens. We'd need to walk back and catch the bus - not far. But he thought we should walk round the back way and be there quicker.
"By coffee time"he promised me.
"That's eleven o'clock?"I checked. Yes, fine.
At ten o'clock we leave, down narrow lanes with high hedges. I can't see a thing. We're not there by eleven, and then he starts to read his map. We're not there by twelve. We're not there by one o'clock. We arrive around 1.15, and I don't get to sit down until 1.30. We must have walked nine miles. And husband's in the doghouse again.
We lunched, then sat around a bit - my legs being too tired to explore the gardens, enjoyed a cup of tea on the terrace, then got a taxi back to the hostel, where all the other guests were beginning to congregate, ready for the party - our friends' fortieth wedding anniversary.
Now we are allocated bunk beds in dormitories. There are seventy guests, so I assume lots of us are in dormitories. I'm in the girls dormitory and our husbands are in the boys dormitory next door. I bag a bed and start to make it up when two jolly women arrive. I've already met them in the hall, greeting long friends. But now I see them together I realise they look very much the same.
"We're twins."I spend the next few hours meeting friends of our friends, memorising names, comparing how we know know them. I videoing meeting and then the speeches, and the song that two of the granddaughters sing. I'll put them all on a CD as a memento for friends.
Champagne drunk and toasts made we repair for the meal - a Spanish buffet
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