Thursday afternoon, about 4:00, I was sitting at my desk, minding my own business when I got an urgent e-mail from my boss. Could someone make it to a dinner that night in London? The catch was that it started at 6:30 and was black tie.
After checking with Steve, I said sure, and the clock was ticking.
4:15 – leave my desk
4:20 – pick up ticket to event from originally planned attendee who had thrown out her back
4:25 – leave campus
4:40 – stuck in queue waiting to cross Sonning bridge. empty the bits from my purse that I’ll need into the tray so that I can put them in my evening bag on the way to the train station
5:02 – enter the house, throwing clothes and shoes everywhere, trying to shout to Steve where I think my black dress is hanging and trying to describe to him what d’orsay pumps look like
5:03-5:09 – put up hair, put on some makeup, find all the bits that go with the dress (which my lady readers know is no small undertaking), get dressed, break a nail, find evening bag, dress coat
5:10 – leave home, driving like a banshee
5:12 – get to train station
5:12:15 – gates start flashing as train approaches
5:12:30 – only other person on train platform, also just walking up, remarks how lucky we are
5:13 – train pulls away
5:25 – get text from Steve that the house looks like a tornado hit
6:05 – arrive at Paddington, text co-worker also arriving and share a cab to the dinner
It was really nice to get to take the party frock out for another spin, one never really gets enough chances to dress up (well, if you’re me you don’t).