Dear Diary, Breakfast was hardly finished when the telephone rang. Niece, the closest, picked up the receiver and intoned, with quite a posh accent, "Goodmorning, You are speaking with Hester". When did she change her mode of replying on the telephone? I had never heard her say anything different than, "Hello", which I think tells the listener nothing. Did they reach the right number, had they misdialed? However, this new greeting did have a certain ring about it!
A smile crossed her face. Obviously the call was good news. I knew she was slightly anxious whether Karen and Jake reached home alright, but as I had informed her, rather shortly I guess, but that girl does worry so, that no news was good news. Young folks today don't think to phone home, and Karen had not been in the habit of letting Niece know her whereabouts. Not that I added that little piece of information! I do have some grey matter under my hair. More words were exchanged with smiles and nods at this end.
There is one thing about the telephone Dear Diary. Unless one is engaged in the conversation, or has one of those phones with a speaker attached [new fangled inventions!] then a listener has no idea who is speaking about, or of whom. I had to wait for enlightenment.
Niece finally replaced the receiver, and announced with glee, that we were going out for afternoon tea. I looked surprised. It wasn't often we gallivanted around. I couldn't recollect anyone to whom a returns visit was in the offing.
"Where to?" I enquired.
"Over the street wants us to pop over for a cuppa mid-afternoon," she replied. "She is hoping to start a charity afternoon tea, and has invited ladies of the neighbourhood to the inaugural meet in the hope of forming a group. With winter being upon us, she thought it would be a charitable idea if several in the area hosted an afternoon tea, those attending contributing a gold coin to be donated to a charity, to be decided upon, at the end of the winter."
I thought the suggestion excellent, though I had reservations as to how the money would be collected and where it would reside until the conclusion of the colder months. Not wishing to put a damper on our outing, I kept my thoughts to myself. The small print could be hammered out later in the day!
The morning disappeared in a flurry of excitement. What to wear? Should be go casual, or dress up a little? Personally I plumped for treating it like an occasion, and after gentle persuasion Niece agreed. Just popping across the street for afternoon tea dressed in housework slacks and a T-shirt would make the occasion ho-hum. Paying gold coins for a ho-hum excursion didn't fit with the idea of an afternoon tea for charity.
A smile crossed her face. Obviously the call was good news. I knew she was slightly anxious whether Karen and Jake reached home alright, but as I had informed her, rather shortly I guess, but that girl does worry so, that no news was good news. Young folks today don't think to phone home, and Karen had not been in the habit of letting Niece know her whereabouts. Not that I added that little piece of information! I do have some grey matter under my hair. More words were exchanged with smiles and nods at this end.
There is one thing about the telephone Dear Diary. Unless one is engaged in the conversation, or has one of those phones with a speaker attached [new fangled inventions!] then a listener has no idea who is speaking about, or of whom. I had to wait for enlightenment.
Niece finally replaced the receiver, and announced with glee, that we were going out for afternoon tea. I looked surprised. It wasn't often we gallivanted around. I couldn't recollect anyone to whom a returns visit was in the offing.
"Where to?" I enquired.
"Over the street wants us to pop over for a cuppa mid-afternoon," she replied. "She is hoping to start a charity afternoon tea, and has invited ladies of the neighbourhood to the inaugural meet in the hope of forming a group. With winter being upon us, she thought it would be a charitable idea if several in the area hosted an afternoon tea, those attending contributing a gold coin to be donated to a charity, to be decided upon, at the end of the winter."
I thought the suggestion excellent, though I had reservations as to how the money would be collected and where it would reside until the conclusion of the colder months. Not wishing to put a damper on our outing, I kept my thoughts to myself. The small print could be hammered out later in the day!
The morning disappeared in a flurry of excitement. What to wear? Should be go casual, or dress up a little? Personally I plumped for treating it like an occasion, and after gentle persuasion Niece agreed. Just popping across the street for afternoon tea dressed in housework slacks and a T-shirt would make the occasion ho-hum. Paying gold coins for a ho-hum excursion didn't fit with the idea of an afternoon tea for charity.
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