Hello Bloggy friends!

I’ve asserted over and over that I have the best bloggy friends in the world.  That’s indisputable. But I have mentioned that my IRL friends are among the sweetest God ever made?


Two of that number laboured tirelessly (and ceaselessly! and creatively!) for weeks to make this season’s ball spectacular.  Here is a sample of the day…


At 3pm guests arrived at Windermere Estate – five acres of the most beautiful gardens you can imagine, designed by a lady with an eye for the aesthetic.  Afternoon tea, introductions and the distribution of programs followed.


Of course, some poor little girls didn’t have much chance of afternoon tea.  They looked pretty, it was a beautiful garden, and their cousins were there.. so.. circumstances kind of begged me to drag them off for photos…

At 3:30pm the ladies and gentlemen divided company for a talk on etiquette.  We thereafter wore the social restraints of the era as well as the clothes.  😀

4pm found all in preparation for the Royal Tournament, and this involved a waltz. How those two things related is as much a mystery for me as for you, as I was driving my little people  home to Grandma’s and missed this part.  However I came back in time to catch part of the waltz, and I have to share one of my favourite photos of the day with you..

The composition is not ideal – it was shoot it where I was standing when I saw it or miss out, but I love the light, and the expression on the Chicklette’s face.

Next – The Royal Tournament.  See the squares on the ground in the photo above?  I can’t explain the rules of the game, but it was in part a game of Living Chess.  It involved a great deal of sword play and hilarity, the result of which was Mr BB being put to the sword (see below), and a young Knight winning the hand of the Chicklette, and the two of them being crowned as a result.

At 6pm it was time for high tea.  We sang the Selkirk grace in rounds, no less! (did I mention the MC of the evening was a conductor?)

As evening fell, it was.. freezing.  At this time of year one might expect to have been perishingly hot in formal evening wear. But it could easily have passed for August:  the wind was sufficiently gusty to blow over the marquees! Picnic blankets, spare jumpers, and rugs began to appear..

Have you ever read the Ukrainian folk tale, “The Mitten”?  I couldn’t help thinking of it when two girls huddled under a picnic blanket, and then they admitted another, and another, and another…

It was easier to bear the cold when the dancing began.


Supper was served at 9pm, followed by more dancing, and at midnight a Finale March, and then all gathered to sing a farewell anthem.


Friends, it was enormous fun.  Imagine having darling friends who would work so hard to produce such an evening for you.  I am blessed indeed.