Marlborough Leavers Ball 2012
Our young Henry, having completed his tenure at Marlborough College to the delight and relief of all, not least his house master, celebrated his leaving at the School Leaver’s Ball last weekend. Lady S fussed over the boy’s attire saying,
“Dahling Henners you don’t need your monocle tonight, just your dinner suit. And ditch the bong, they’ll take a dim view of it in chapel.”
We pitched up to the Castle and Ball just before Vespers and dressed for dinner. If I say so myself I look pretty sharp in a dinner suit and the old girl scrubs up well too. We looked a jolly site as we trundled down, sorry dine, the high street to Littlefield, Henner’s school house to be greeted by….. yet more Champagne! Parrfect! We heard a nice speech from the house master who was obviously so pleased to see the back of his present charge of miscreants and ne’er do wells, I could see the tears running down his face. He was fair hopping with delight when he said
“end do enjoy the chepple service, so nice. ”
Which, to be fair, it was. The rousing Jerusalem finale put us in fine fettle for the ensuing feast and as the vista of The Court presented itself to us, complete with marquees and dodgems, all looked well. But then it all changed. Tristan was our door manager and as my better half passed him our tickets he looked at us both then paused….
“Good evening Lady S welcome to the Ball but aim afwaid the servant can’t join you”, while nodding at me.
“I BEG your pardon?” she said, “what do you mean?”
“Well ‘e ain’t one of us is ‘e? … your manservant, I mean.”
“Are .. you .. referring .. to .. Him?” she pointed slowly, dangerously.
He swallowed, “err yehs”.
She looked back at me, at my little crumpled shoulders, and turned to him, “you mean my husband? who despite being a complete idiot, has paid your exorbitant school fees and is now being refused entrance to the Leavers Ball?”
“yehs ‘im… ‘e jest don’t look right do ‘e?”
“what on earth are you talking about boy?”
“I’m tewibly soweh be ‘e jest don’t cut the mustard, ‘e ain’t one of us and ‘e can’t go to the ball’
My mind wandered from watching Lady S lifting ‘the little scrote’ by the neck and hoying him into the bushes. It wandered because I was feeling intense feelings of liberation at the thought of no more school fees. WOO HOOOO! WOO HOOOOO! But was brought back to reality when the unfortunate man managed to croak
“given ‘is tape maybe ‘e could run the dodgems?”
Now, it’s a closely guarded secret and it may surprise you but the Lee heritage mists into an 18th C. time of horses, no fixed abode and traveling about the country…. (Getting the picture?) So it’s amazing that Tristan was so perceptive. But perceptive he was and boy he could press a button.
“er er er I could do dodgems, I could do dodgems” I said hopping about.
And so it was settled, The Great Geraldo, knowing his place, was happy and comfortable to run the machine while his better half gracefully dined with the great and good. And a fun evening was had by all. Indeed our return to the hotel was so enhanced by a night cap with the Gentry that I got chummy with major general sir blah blah. Jolly nice chap. Someone you could have a bit of banter with. The following morning as I was checking out he leaned over saying,
“jolly nice of you to pay my bill old chep!”
and as I look down and absorbed the huge sum I said,
“Well egg jelly I think I have.’