The Old Water Mill was heaving with coach loads of aged white-top trippers. I went inside to order a pot of Earl Grey tea to find that they had sold out, “Utterly unheard of!” The sweet fresh-faced girl giggled and offered some Lady Grey as an alternative.
“Lovely, with lemon please, I’ll be outside on the terrace.”
The peacocks were showing off, strutting their stuff, shaking their tail feathers, bustling their booty to the sound of some 80 elderly paparazzi, castanet-ing camera clickers. The staff struggled to weave between them and tidy their crockery laden tables. Wrist watch tapping coach-drivers were keen to usher and leave, but the oldies were enjoying the floor show.
A young lady carrying a tea-tray, paused for a moment and said. “Lady Grey?” I looked up, smiled and nodded. Another clearing tables spoke up for me and said “Yes, over here!” Stunned silence. The drivers picked…
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