The Past And Other Lies
“Carefully arranged vases of daffodils and early carnations and scarlet geraniums stood in the windows of neighbours’ houses and Mr Creely at number fifty-five had polished and waxed his brand-new black Baby Austin.
There was to be a spring wedding in Wells Lane.
At number eighty-one the frenzy of activity resembled below-stairs in a great country house during a pheasant-shooting weekend. The sort of weekend, observed Dad, who had experienced such occasions, when most of the staff had go...ne down with the flu and a peer of the realm had turned up unexpectedly and without a valet.
On the morning of the wedding, Mr Cyrus Flaxheed, retired butler and father of the bride, was swaying dangerously on the top rung of a stepladder outside his front doorstep attaching two white streamers to the porch. The white streamers were homage to some vague rural custom that no one had ever heard of, but everyone was too afraid to question.MoreLess
There was to be a spring wedding in Wells Lane.
At number eighty-one the frenzy of activity resembled below-stairs in a great country house during a pheasant-shooting weekend. The sort of weekend, observed Dad, who had experienced such occasions, when most of the staff had go...ne down with the flu and a peer of the realm had turned up unexpectedly and without a valet.
On the morning of the wedding, Mr Cyrus Flaxheed, retired butler and father of the bride, was swaying dangerously on the top rung of a stepladder outside his front doorstep attaching two white streamers to the porch. The white streamers were homage to some vague rural custom that no one had ever heard of, but everyone was too afraid to question.MoreLess
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