Archie is right. The British have apparently never met a medieval tradition they didn’t want to preserve, polish, and serve canapés at.
When I arrive at the livery dinner, I’m announced by the Beadle, a man in ceremonial robes whose job, as far as I can tell, is to stand at the entrance and say people’s names very loudly while holding an ornamental mace. It’s like a bouncer, if bouncers had been to finishing school.
“Mr. Leo Brennan, guest of Mr. Andrew Yates!”
The other day, I was Bumblesnort the Garden Fairy. Tonight, I’m in black tie as a guest of the Worshipful Company of Information Technologists.
The cognitive dissonance is remarkable.
After shaking hands with the Master of the Worshipful Company of Information Technologists, I accept a glass of champagne from a passing server and try to orient myself. Vintners’ Hall is all dark wood paneling and chandeliers that probably require their own insurance policy. I take a sip of champagne as my phone beeps.
Archie
Important question. Can you touch your toes? The caterpillar costume for Saturday requires a certain degree of flexibility and I need to manage the client’s expectations.
I look around the room full of three centuries of oil paintings and then back at my phone.
Why would a caterpillar need to touch its toes?
It’s a Very Hungry Caterpillar party. The caterpillar has to curl into a cocoon at the end. It’s the emotional climax of the show. The children cry if the cocoon isn’t convincing.
I’m not curling into a ball on the floor in front of children.
You say that now. But when twenty four-year-olds are chanting “cocoon, cocoon, cocoon,” you’ll fold. Literally.
I laugh out loud at that before the next message bounces onto my phone.
What’s your head circumference, by the way? The antennae headband is one-size-fits-most, but your head strikes me as potentially outside the “most” range.
My head is a normal size.
That’s what everyone with an abnormally large head says.
“Leo! You made it.”
I stash my phone hastily in my pocket and turn to see Andrew approaching me with a wide smile. He’s accompanied by a very good-looking man with golden hair.
When they reach me, Andrew pushes his glasses back onto his nose.
“Uh, you remember Justin, don’t you?”
“Sure I do. Although you do have slightly more clothes on than you did when I first met you,” I say dryly.
Justin gives a sheepish laugh. “Yeah, the dress code for tonight requires more than just a towel.”
“Yes, apparently these people have rules about bow tie colors.”
“I saw that.”
“So, how’s the jet lag?” I ask, knowing they only flew back from America yesterday.
“Not too bad. We slept a bit on the plane.” Justin sneaks a smile at Andrew that makes me wonder what else they got up to on the private jet back from Texas.
But then, I’m fairly sure I don’t want to know the answer to that.
“So, are you going to fill me in on what happened with Vaughn’s brother?” Andrew asks.
“Ah. Yes. That.” I clear my throat. Then clear it again when words don’t magically appear.
