Tints of autumn

Big Robert, owner of the Pub, & Mr P, the music teacher, are deep in conversation. Food is clearly on their minds. We hear the odd words of pheasant, watercress soup, pumpkin soup. We try to politely turn our attention to our crossword, whilst feeling a certain amount of curiosity as to what's up.

Suddenly Mr P turns round & says, pointing at us, "Well, there's some for a start. They'll come."

What were we being volunteered for now? we wondered.

It turns out, that Mr P is taking over the Pub's kitchen for one evening & preparing a special autumnal menu for the night - three courses for £20 a head. Mr P has recently put in for early retirement from teaching & is intending to set up as an outside caterer. He's already done a couple of weddings & BBQs. This is to launch himself more widely. The meal is to be next week, during half term, while he has a bit more time to concentrate on food rather than school.

Our first thought is that it isn't possible. The dining areas of the Pub are no longer accessible to me, too many steps. Robert & Mr P pooh-pooh that idea. A few strong men should be able to manhandle me, in my chair, up & down the stairs. I agree to a trial run while the Pub is quiet. The Fox gets the wheelchair. Sure enough Mr P & the Fox manage to get me down & up again, though there's no way they could get me through the narrow doorway to the loo. Mr P did contemplate just taking the door off the hinges - it's never closed anyhow - but the screws lie under inches of years of paint. Still, at least it proved I could get to the dining room, so let's hope the Ladies is not required.

The menu is further discussed. There's no denying it does sound delectable - a special steak & kidney pudding which has been steamed for 5 hours.... Our mouths water, our enthusiasm mounts. We've nothing fixed for next Thursday beyond going to the Farmers' Market at lunchtime.

"So is at a set time?" we ask.

"Yes. That will be better."

A further discussion ensues. "We'll make it 7.30 for 8," is the conclusion, "That gives us chance to get through most of the people who are ordering a meal from the ordinary menu that evening."

That saddens me a bit. It's rather late for us. Occasionally we do eat that late but it's a spur of the moment meal rather than a planned time to eat. I try to tell myself I should have chance for a long nap in the afternoon & we usually have a spot of lunch after the Farmers' Market so we should be able to keep our appetites going until then. We agree to go.

Over dinner we are forced to conclude that this is overoptimistic. By 7 I'm dragging my way through the meal, exhausted. I have a quick cup of tea after then to bed. It's only 8pm. I wouldn't even have started to eat Mr P's meal. I'm sorry but this afternoon we're going have to disappoint Mr P & back out of our commitment. It just isn't on, much as we would love to go.

I find myself rather dispirited. It's partially tiredness, partially having to accept my limitations & having to inflict them on the Fox. I'm bouncing back a bit this morning, after over 12 hours' in bed, most of it asleep. I'm still a bit subdued. It would have been nice, but that's the price of disability.