Jacqui's question as to our whereabouts -
Saturday evening and not a message?
- enables me to tell my spooky story from the weekend.
This weekend, I was at a hen party. We hired a Jacobean manor house in rural Herefordshire, and had a murder mystery dinner. It was fantastic. I am one of the two bridesmaids, and we have been organizing this event for a couple of months, choosing the house because of its proximity to Hay-on-Wye, and booking it last month. The other bridesmaid and I have been running around like maniacs making sure people had lifts, and getting the directions out, that sort of thing.
It took about six hours to get over there on Friday, with a car full of enough food for 12 people, and making detours to collect people. When we arrived, we wandered round, amazed at how wonderful the house was, nicked the nicest bedrooms <g>, unpacked the food, etc. etc.
I then checked all the kitchen drawers and cupboards, to make sure we had all the equipment for the dinner we were cooking on the Saturday night. Everything was OK, and the kitchen was so huge that there were loads of empty drawers.
One drawer was empty except for a single video cassette, the only tape I'd seen in the house. 'Ooh,' I thought, turning to read the label. 'I wonder what's on this.'
The tape was - of course - labelled 'Blake's 7'. I couldn't fucking believe it. Of course, I instantly had to drop everything to find out what episode it was.
What a fucking weird thing to happen. I am clearly being stalked. Or maybe I spontaneously generate B7 wherever I go.
Una