Since Candice had braces fitted she has not stopped complaining that boys do not look at her anymore. I realize that our parents have the best interest of their daughters at heart but, as Tamsin said, she looks terrible, a bit like Hannibal Lecter. Worse still and as Tamsin quite rightly pointed out, she would have trouble attracting creatures of the opposing species while her appearance reminded her of Free Willy, hang on ‘praps was it Jaws.
Remarks like that do not give Candice, that’s Candice Robertson, the poise and self-assurance that she desperately needs or the confidence that goes with having really nice white teeth. I reckon she was being a bit of a drama queen myself but as Charlotte Patterson pointed out it is not her fault her teeth braces do not look natural.
HER TEETH BRACES DO NOT LOOK NATURAL? For heaven’s sake, what is she talking about? Phaedra noted it is not the end of the world, is it? It is alright for her. She does not have to wear braces. Look I do not want to dwell on Candice’s teeth….or braces.
Some of us boarders are going to the Rickmansworth Folk Club this evening. Jamie Figgis is appearing. I assume most of you would have heard of Jamie so I won’t insult your intelligence by explaining to who he is.
Yes, he has two YouTube uploads and Charlotte Patterson reckons on his Facebook page it reads he has got over 60 friends or followers. In contrast, I have only got three; at one point I did have four.
The place will be packed out. I might try and get Figgis’s autograph. I need it for swapsies.
I, Tamsin, Rebecca, Candice, and Charlotte together walked down to the folk club. A couple of the other girls were coming later.
It was going to be a big night. I assumed the Rickmansworth Bugle might have sent a reporter or two. Jamie Figgis, fortunately as it turned out, signed autographs for Rebecca and Tamsin and I before making some critical tuning to his guitar.
There was an air of excitement in the club as Figgis approached the microphone and made some inaudible comments to his sound Man. He tapped the microphone then did a quick audio test counting from one to ten. Happy with the sound test he cheerily called out “can you all hear me at the back there?” there was a chorus of raucous applause.
Gentle readers, there was an air of suppressed excitement as Figgis’s guitar pick hovered momentarily over what I think was a G chord of his Gibson fretboard. It was that moment, as his hand descended, that was going to be the last we were going to hear from him all evening.
The microphones died, the lights went out and the club was plunged into darkness. The only sound heard was the drummer. What folk group has a drummer for heaven’s sake?
Our four coffees, one black, three white, two with sugar and two without and a pastry we ordered, were not going to see the light of day as the kitchen’s power also succumbed to the ebon blackness.
The news leaked back to the club that the mains transformer down the street had just exploded causing the street and traffic lights to go out. I was hopping mad and thought our money should be refunded, which it was.
At least the bonus was the timely request for Figgis’s autograph. It was going to be an early night for us girls. We passed a couple of college boarders also heading for the club and informed them that the Figgis musical extravaganza was off.
Another weekend; every week seems to have them. Weekends that is and Tamsin and I are off home to Inveraray Castle. I thought I might also invite Candice home as she is wallowing in self-pity and she needs cheering up. Braces are not the end of the world. To show how serious this has all become Candice is becoming anxious and withdrawn and is avoiding smiling.
Saturday afternoon back at Inveraray I thought we might ride across to Colonel Carter-Brown’s place. It is only a half-hour ride across the fields and down the lane to the castle. Candice rides, as do most of my friends, so the three of us collected our horses from Andrew the stable lad who already had our horses saddled and we headed for Ruthin Castle. It was an excuse to pet Reynard the fox.
Colonel Carter-Brown told us he has stopped chasing the chickens...…that’s Reynard the fox, not the colonel. That was a timely relief as it also coincided with the chickens starting to lay eggs again.
We were all in the saloon. Mother and father had arrived earlier and father and the colonel were discussing the finer points of a Chivas Whisky, its colour and its history. I left mother and the colonel’s wife Rowena drinking some red stuff from a large decanter. Tamsin, Candice and I wandered around the castle’s gallery.
Tamsin was particularly struck by a Stanford Price painting of ‘The Guards March to East Barnet’.
The brass nameplate indicated that it was painted in 1750. I heard Tamsin whisper ‘that’s strange’.
After a tour of the gallery, we returned to the saloon. Sitting down Tamsin queried the colonel ‘why is the drummer in the painting The Guards March to East Barnet wearing what looks like joggers, and a pregnant woman next to the soldier with a gun wearing what looks like a wristwatch, when it was painted in 1750?’
The colonel turned to me and asked with a smile “Bridgette has Tamsin been at your mother's wine?”
Tamsin replied hurriedly “No, no Sir, but there is a similar painting by a Mr William Hogarth person named ‘The Guards March to Finchley’ - a similar title and an identical painting. I saw it in the gallery at the Foundling Museum in London a while ago. It is why it makes me suspect your painting is a fake”.
“Well that IS interesting” replied the colonel.
“Yes. Sir, I suspect your painting by this Stanford Price person is a fake; a poor copy of Hogarth’s ‘The Guards March to Finchley’. Anyway I don’t think there was an East Barnet in 1750”.
The colonel said patronizingly with a smile “Tamsin thank you for your professional input and to put your mind at rest I will invite Professor Daintree round. He is an art expert. We will ask him his opinion, OK?”
I thought that was the end of the matter and forgot all about it until it was triggered by a comment that Tamsin made when we arrived back at Denham College. She asked if the colonel had purchased the painting at a car boot sale in Inveraray village.
A week later the news filtered back from father and it was not good. The painting was a fake but apart from the jogger footwear and wristwatch Professor Daintree said the colonel’s painting was a fair copy. That was a relief.
Tamsin suggested if the colonel had paid big money for the fake why not keep the painting and change the brass nameplate to say ‘The Guards March to Rickmansworth’ by a fictitious painter, no-one would need to know, would they?
There was a name change. The colonel did plump for ‘The Guards March to Rickmansworth’ and a nameplate was made to replace the ‘The Guards March to East Barnet’ heeding Tamsin’s comment perhaps there was no such place as East Barnet or Barnet in 1750.
I think I put the cat among the pigeon’s a few weeks later when I asked the colonel if there was a Rickmansworth in 1750.
As an addendum, an artist was hired to replace the joggers on the drummer in the painting with more suitable traditional footwear and to remove the watch from the wrist of the lady.
The art gallery in London where the colonel purchased the painting was going to be in for some big trouble.
