Sisterly Devotion

There had been a surprisingly long interlude between visits to or from my sister this 2019. I suppose new years bring with them new constraints on time, and we all have to juggle our calendars a little more chaotically. Nevertheless we did find time to see each other, and we saw each other right and proper, with a day out and a dinner in for two (with the accompaniment of a fair amount of red wine!), on which I shall elaborate.

The day began a little behind schedule as I received frantic messages from the party in question at about 11:25 claiming that she was going to be a bit late. I knew then the severity of the situation as she had not yet left home and lives 40 minutes away…When she did eventually show up, a little flustered and over an hour late, we leapt into my car and I plugged our destination into my phone. In the days leading up to her visit I’d been sending suggestions of where we might while away the hours, as well as menu options, and we’d narrowed it down to a 50:50 - Grey’s Court in Henley or Osterley Park in Greater London. Both National Trust properties in order to take advantage of our young persons’ membership. I had decided Grey’s Court would be the ideal of the two, to save me driving into London, and so without really thinking and certainly without checking I leapt into my car and blindly followed the sat nav that told me in 43 minutes I would be arriving at the new greatly anticipated ‘Grey’s Court’.

As I chatted away to Alice the minutes flew by, since we had a great deal to catch up on, so it was only about 30 minutes in that I took a moment to become aware of my surroundings (till then I really had just been ‘taking the first exit’ without any true sense of direction). My heart sank as I realised we were heading closer and closer to London and in the opposite direction of Henley. In a mild panic I commanded Alice to check our whereabouts and our predicted destination. Alas a Grey’s Court in Twickenham was where we were headed, another 45 minutes away from the Grey’s Court we had in our hearts and minds. So, in a rather good spur of the moment instance of damage control, I instructed Alice to type in ‘Osterley Park’ and see where that got us (praying there wasn’t another one of those in Leeds or something). As luck would have it, it was less than 20 minutes by car, and so, by some sort of happy if slightly stressful at the time accident, we ended up in the grounds of this lovely neo-classical house.

Once there we made the most of the few opening hours left to us and proceeded to the exhibition within (all on silverware). The exhibition itself was actually rather interesting, juxtaposing the antiquated silverware with modern designs to provoke some sort of comparison and discussion. It was mildly successful in both. Now there must be something about Alice and I, and in fact possibly my whole family, because whenever we go anywhere (and particularly when we find ourselves in a house owned by the National Trust), people will inevitably enter into conversation with us. Last time it was 45 minutes with a volunteer at West Wycombe Park who told us his whole life story and all the redeeming qualities of his ‘woman’. This time a very sweet lady explained at great length the flow of the exhibition, and how Alice and I ought to navigate the displays, which direction we should take and the cycle of our visit and so on. There were a mere two rooms in this exhibition, so ultimately I found her advice a little superfluous and perhaps labouring the point. Nevertheless we smiled and nodded, nodded and smiled, and eventually took our leave of her.

In one of the two rooms of this apparently exceedingly complex exhibition, Alice and I found ourselves commandeered by another lady explaining in depth the significance of a very large wine basin, its function and just how many young burly men it took to get it to its current central position. Another very warm and friendly encounters with the lady at the cafe had us discussing whether such a think as a mochaccino existed and if so what would it be? Last but not least, the second-hand book shop brought us a final friendly female with whom we discussed fiction, fate and the funny coincidence that I picked up the book she had only just put out (the Goldfinch by Donna Tartt - it seems our fifteen minutes was filled with ‘f’s).

The ‘f’ theme continued as I cooked Alice fish for tea! I think the meal was overall a success. I got us both dressed up to the nines for no reason other than it feels good to look good, and she cracked open the Prosecco as I cooked us up some garlic, chilli prawns - the celebratory atmosphere was set. We then moved onto red wine for my smoky fish, beans and greens main that really was rather tasty, if I say so myself. Mind you we were a couple of glasses down by this point so who really knows? But it was really lovely to see her, have an evening of her all to myself, have a proper good natter and a catch up, and delve deep into details of work, love and life. There’s no one better than a friend to share your troubles and joys with, and there’s no better friend than Alice, and I am just lucky to call her my sister. I am always here to share her burdens and bask in all her joys, and I know the feeling is mutual. So here’s to Alice - a toast to sisterly devotion. xxx