‘Twas a perfectly civilised way to spend the afternoon: An art tour accompanied by noble ladies and the bling they bring, followed by tea and macaroons – but with none of that pretentiousness such as raised pinkies or incessant chatter about cats, the weather or the World Cup.
“Will the Secretary join us?”
“I’m afraid duty calls. Enjoy your afternoon.”
Awfully polite gentleman, and a lovely person to hang with, I’m sure, if he cared to stay, but I was glad for his sake he didn’t – though the treats were sweet, the banter was sweeter still, dripping with saccharine and laced with barbs, if one cared to listen with half a mind.
Instead, attention was paid towards the lush wine our gracious hostess doled out – our demitasse tea cups barely drained.
Happy hour has officially begun, though there won’t be any drunken fisticuffs – not with this lot – but mind the verbal minefields.