Another short chapter in which we give silly people our blessing
Thistlebloom was not happy.
‘High tea?’ she gasped.
‘Yes,’ said Olive. She watched with concern as Thistlebloom fiddled with the pens on her desk, arranging and rearranging them four times, before shutting her eyes and sighing.
‘Disturbing,’ thought Olive. ‘It must be the stress . . . or the double concussion . . . or both . . .’
Thistlebloom’s eyes snapped open. ‘High tea?!’ she shrieked. ‘Now?! This very afternoon?! At the Brighton Hotel?!’
‘I organised it this morning,’ Olive explained. ‘By telephone. When you were . . . er . . . resting.’
Thistlebloom pressed the palms of her hands onto the desktop until her fingers turned white. Red blotches travelled up her neck, onto her jawline.
‘I thought it might be fun,’ pleaded Olive. ‘An enjoyable way to practise our etiquette for the Queen’s visit.’
‘Fun?!’ shrieked Thistlebloom. ‘Who on earth suggested that learning should be fun?!’
‘Mrs Groves always says that we do our best learning when we are having a jolly time.’
‘Mrs Groves is a very silly woman!’
Olive could not disagree. Everyone knew that Mrs Groves was a very silly woman. Even Mrs Groves knew it! But Olive could not see what that had to do with the current discussion. One could be phenomenally silly and still have a wealth of knowledge to share. Look at Albert Einstein! He refused to wear socks or brush his hair, yet made marvellous advances in the world of physics.
‘I appreciate that you have made arrangements for the school uniform, the royal menu and the Queen’s entertainment, Olive. But high tea . . .’ Thistlebloom slammed a large book down on her desk. It was titled Dare to Be Dour. ‘Why, it is almost like you are trying to make school appealing!’
Olive, practical and quick of wit, changed tack. ‘I don’t wish to cause alarm, Thistlebloom, but time is running out. The Queen will be here tomorrow afternoon and there are still hundreds of items to be ticked off your list. By my reckoning, one hundred and thirty-four important lessons can be covered in one successful outing to the Brighton for high tea, including the seven different methods of sitting politely at the table and the four different ways to nibble delicately on a sandwich.’ Olive pointed to the appropriate numbers on Thistlebloom’s list. ‘High tea is an efficient use of our time.’
Thistlebloom narrowed her eyes. ‘I do like efficiency.’
‘Furthermore,’ added Olive, pulling the trump card from her sleeve, ‘the booking is made and it would be terribly bad manners to cancel at the last minute.’
‘Bad manners!’ gasped Thistlebloom. ‘Not on my watch!’