Crushed

Several of us on the committee had been on the visit to London last week. At today's meeting, we were talking about how it had gone (this is not just chat, this sort of discussion is part of the meeting) and it was observed that a fair number of men have rather fallen for me.

I was embarrassed, but it's true. I seem to appeal to the over-70-somethings.

One delightful gentleman arrived half an hour early to claim a seat on the coach next to me. He was one of the first in the coffee queue - I was the other side of the room chatting - so he could get me a cup of coffee. Another approached and blurted out, well, I thought he said I looked lovely, which was startling enough (simple black trousers and jumper) but J said he said I was lovely, which is probably a bit worse. Fortunately, I was manifestly more taken aback than gratified, as a first reaction. Gracious thanks as a second, if you are wondering.

I've explained, this is what happens when you are chairman, or rather chairwoman (but I don't think that is a word unless used by the Chairwoman herself; that is, Katy's lovely mother [if you don't know what the hell I'm talking about, sorry, neither of them blogs much nowadays so I don't think it'd be helpful to link]) of the committee, so I now expect a small queue hoping to supersede me next summer.

It's a funny thing that all of the lovely men who read this blog are younger than I, most of them by a considerable margin. I should like to reassure them that I do not expect romantic adoration. Raucous laughter is, I agree, more likely.