The Last Round Table (Stanley, Tyrrell, Newell)

It's not big. It's not clever. But it's quite possibly the last chance I have to sit around a table with Grandma. We took Jof this time.
First up, we did the bottlebank walk and delivered BethsMum's birthday present. I found a Famous Five book in the charity shop for only 40p that had 4 books in it! Feeling victorious, we lashed out £20 on flowers at the designer florist with the really ugly dog and I wrote out the card to go with them.
While it's great to allow the child to write the card because you can all say "Oh isn't his handwriting good/isn't he such a sweetie/Grandma will like it better coming from him" etc, you do have to understand that us little people are often brutally honest and don't exactly hold back on niceties.
Anyway, having been there a few times, I was official tour guide. I showed Jof around the apartment, and when Grandad came to see what I was doing, I showed him around as well. We delivered some more scented candles and my school mugshot and some very special Nepalese Temple incense and our smiling faces.
At lunch, I had the all-day breakfast and we talked to the waiter about the wasted food. Every bit of leftover food is binned and on Sunday lunches the amount that goes in the bin is, frankly, criminal. So I said about when I was a public schoolboy at a preparatory school in Hertfordshire in the 70s and that we had some pigs in a shed in their own field in the corner of the estate and how if you fed the pigs all the leftovers from the school dinners, at the end of the year there would be more, fatter pigs and that you got a free pig or two for the xmas roasty. The waiter went and talked to the chef who said he'd talk to the farmer by the railway line who's got pigs and so we did our bit for recycling.
Then I showed Jof around the very posh Elizabethan snooker room with its snooker table you could play tennis on and the library and bar and film room and coffee room and Tudor fireplaces you could roast a wild boar in and she loved it. The trees by the front gate are covered in mistletoe, enough for one of those special Roman parties where you've got it wrong if you wake up with the wife.
Then while the old people snored, I swam with Jof and we turned on the super-bubblies in the spa whirlpool and threw the ball and snorkel at each other and we loved it. An elderly man told us off for not being in there with a resident but Jof is extremely adept at dealing with crusty objectionable old folk so she mollified him.
Eventually we left and spotted Poppy and family going into the park so I hastened to have a slow snack and joined them for chasing, swinging, laughing and all the other stuff us youngsters get up to.