The stately home of Wilfred and Mabel Fortescue-Smyth was having an open day, and Crisp my aged companion had applied as it was listed as an invitation-only affair.
We set off on the day in question even though no reply had been received to her application as Crisp believed it would be a matter of course.
We arrived at the gate and joined the queue. A very officious man looked down his nose as Crisp announced our arrival.
“I’m sorry madam, but your name is not upon my list,” he declared.
“What?” exclaimed Crisp, “it must be, please look again. Crisp and friend.”
“No Crisp, no friend. Sorry, but you’ll have to leave.”
“This is outrageous,” stated Crisp.
She then grabbed my hand and made off around the corner of the estate. “Start looking for a secret door. These places always have secret doors. Secret gardens, that sort of thing.”
Needless to say, my day was spent with a seething Crisp as there was no secret way in.