Country life
So much to fret about
Leanda de Lisle
We have the best — if also one of the most politically incorrect — beauty compe- titions around. The models have beautiful eyes, big chests, long legs and, seemingly, longer tongues. Every year the Atherstone Puppy Show is a huge success. Would this one be any different? Since we were host- ing the lunch before the show, I became increasingly fretful that it might.
I had asked my husband to arrange the flowers and my mother-in-law to cook the lunch, so I suppose there wasn't much left for me to do but fret and, in the event, it occupied a considerable proportion of my time. Take the flowers: if I had arranged them they would have ended up as exhibits at the Tate entitled something like 'The Forlorn' or 'Massacre: the Aftermath'. However, Peter did a fantastic job. There were a few artistic tantrums when I failed to bring in the correct greenery from the gar- den, but the results reflected very well on me (since they were impressive and every- one would assume that they were my work).
The only thing left for me to worry about was that the cut flowers would die before anyone had seen them — and so naturally I did. I spent the night before the puppy show firing my mister at Peter's arrange- ments until I noticed it had sprayed a thin film of water not only over the roses and peonies, but also over all our furniture. That meant retracing my steps and using my cardigan as a dishcloth. It wasn't very competently done, but the next morning the flowers were still alive so, if we lost a few antiques and an item of clothing, what the hell. The lunch itself would now take up my full attention. I could have cooked it myself (of course) but (of course) I didn't, because I don't have the fridge space for four salmon and my mother-in-law does.
Unfortunately, when it came to cooking the salmon, my mother-in-law only had room in her fish-kettle for three. Now those of you who just eat buffets have no idea just how complicated it is to produce them. Masses of people help to put this magazine together and in terms of difficul- ty it's about on a par with organising the mixed bean salad. Where's the fourth salmon in the business world? At my moth- er-in-law's it went in the oven and, she warned me, had emerged slightly less well done than the others. If that wasn't enough to send me into a spin, I was then told that she was producing a new pudding, rather than the straightforward chocolate pots we had discussed.
'Sushi salmon and then you are experi- menting on my guests?' I asked, going from white to pink and then back to white again. Since I have now been married 15 years, my mother-in-law is quite used to my volatile temperament and deals with it by simply ignoring its less attractive manifesta- tions. This is as well, but I can't ignore my thundering heart. It took several glasses of Pimms to calm me, and I nearly had a reverse when, at the end of a very success- ful and delicious lunch, I realised I didn't have any respectable teaspoons for the cof- fee. The sugar arrived with a few bent implements with green plastic handles — anything better having long ago been dumped into the bins by the children, along with their empty yoghurt pots.
With lunch over at last, I graciously accepted the praise and thanks of my guests, while my mother-in-law collapsed exhausted in a back room and Peter dashed ahead to the show. Perhaps you were hop- ing I would write about that? Well, Peter was very excited because one of the judges had particularly admired one of the win- ning dogs. The puppy walkers were very excited because even those charges they had had two or three years ago bounded up to kiss them hello through the kennel bars. The winners I'm sure were very excited, although I don't recall tears or a crown. But what I do remember was a new poem being read out over tea. It followed the tale of a fox called Blair. The day ended badly — at least, for him.
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