The whole of the Easter break had come and so nearly gone without any one of us spending so much as an hour at Cliveden. Clearly this needed to be put right.
A birthday in late-April is no time to hold a celebration (examinations begin in the early weeks of May), but two months on, my late eighteenth birthday party was blessed with wonderful weather.
Five years after the family hosted an evening boat party to mark Mum’s 50th and Harriet’s 18th, I picked this Sunday afternoon to hold my very own. With me engrossed in revision, Dad had done the vast majority of the organising, although I came up with the finer details: deciding on the menu, compiling the playlist, and suggesting a ‘Henley’ dress code.
So the other day, I was standing around at some form of event and it was the sort of thing where teas and coffees are offered at the end. There were the murmurs of...