Thursday, 27 June 2013


 A last minute mercy dash to the shops meant that Carenza had a clutch bag and Sasoon a tie. I had enamelled Perran an orange earring and cufflinks to match Sarah’s dress.  Now we were ready for the pre-Prom.  Perran’s best friends were assembling at a similar party so he went on there.

About thirty of the twins’ friends arrived. My mission: to get some crisps and ham sandwiches down them to help them last the evening.

“Come on lads, line your stomachs.”

The lads in question looked at me as if I was mad – how would they be able to get roaring drunk if they “lined their stomachs”?

Everybody looked gorgeous and since the night was yet young, nobody was the worse for wear as they left for their minibuses and lifts (thank you, Karen).  But just as they were leaving a large spanner dropped in the works.  Hannah (beautiful in aquamarine) said “Where shall I leave my holdall?” 

“Are you staying over with Carenza?”

“No, with Beth,  but the minibus is dropping us off here at midnight, so I’ll collect it then.”


Perran and Carenza, it should be explained, were not coming back in the minibus but much later by taxi from a nightclub.  It being the middle of the working week, Nigel, Pascoe and I had thought we would leave the door on the latch and go to bed as normal.

But now we were awaiting delivery of a load of drunken teenagers at midnight.  We didn’t want to upset the neighbours.   I sat up in my nightie, ready to deal with them, feeling I would have more impact in hairnet and curlers and with a fag dangling out the corner of my mouth.

When they did arrive, however, they were loud, but cheerful and dispersed without my intervention.

The neighbours are probably still wondering whether it was Tescos or Ocado who messed up my late-night grocery delivery – “I ordered a can of beans, but they sent a van of teens.”

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