Pembroke Wakes Up

Last night I dreamt I was at a fancy dress party given by a friend at which we all had been asked to pretend to be various subspecies of the eccentric and idle rich in order to impress someone who was visiting. Imagine Merchant-Ivory filming Oscar Wilde while he arm wrestles Woodhouse. I was cast in the Rupert Everett role and spent the evening trying to find my best friend in the crowd . . . but I woke up before she arrived.

Church this morning, the world’s longest Baptist service performed without the benefit of air conditioning. Then back to the ranch for food, rest, and a half-hour or so of reading “Carter Beats the Devil” (on loan from my brother Scott).

The countdown to the reunion (the actual reunion, not just hanging out at my parents’ place) has begun. Trying to find the time to write will get that much harder, once all the Enforced Fun kicks in.

Everyone arrives tomorrow, ghosts and secrets in tow.