I am at the Port Eliot LitFest in St Germans.
I am sitting in the Eliot Arms, having lunch while I wait for D to get in at the train station in Liskeard.
All the people from Hamstead and Notting Hill and those kind of places are here. There are a lot of birkenstocks. I ran into S, which was nice, because I figured I might not know anyone. And D2 texted to say he's on his way, too.
Here are some fragments of overhead conversation so far:
"If I sort myself out to have a baby, I mean, I'm on my own, but if I do, will you stop me from brining it up to be a real spoiled brat? I can't bear Only Child Syndrome."
"That one, she's passed on her food fads to her children. Natasha/Georgia/your contemporary middle class name here will have bulimia, soon."
"Of course she has allergies. Everyone does nowadays. She's a clean freak. She hoovered over my hoovering."
I think it's going to be fun here. And, there's free wireless.
This morning, when I left my lovely barn, I had a long cup of tea with L, the owner, which covered a whole range of subjects. I'm pretty sure she's putting wireless broadband in. It's not that I persuaded her, honest. I mean, it was kinda nice to have to drive twelve miles to get online. Really.