“Miss Kristen Scott and Mr Matt Kennedy from Macmillan Cancer Support…”
I am being announced into dinner.
I am wearing a ball gown, I can’t stop giggling, and I am being announced into dinner.
Matt gives me a look that calms me down and we enter the ornate dining room of the Blackpool Imperial hotel, arm in arm, to the applause of two hundred formally clad members of the British Amusement Catering Trade Association.
I know you’re thinking, “why”? Kristen, why did you dig out your senior prom dress and head up to the seaside community of Blackpool to spend an evening with middle aged gambling and gaming centre proprietors and their spouses?
Because, as someone I know often says, “It’s a lifestyle.”
And in fact it is, from time to time. BACTA and its members are one of Macmillan’s corporate partners and routinely hold glamorous events, the proceeds of which go to help people affected by cancer across the UK. Sometimes, if I’m lucky, I get invited.
Now, it may not be the Metropolitan Museum Costume Institute Gala or the Bridge School Benefit, but when else would you get the chance to meet the Mayor and Mayoress of Blackpool, be announced into dinner with your “partner”, and seated at the VIP table as if you were some hot shot, instead of a 24-year-old displaced charity worker with a confusing North American accent? Where else would you see grown men and women pelting each other with styrofoam balls shot out of pea shooters? Or walk away from the tombola raffle with a 13” TV, a remote control car and a set of watercolours? I don’t think the Bridge School Benefit offers any of that.
This evening was actually only the beginning of one of the most memorable weekends I’ve had in the UK.
After Matt and I left the rag tag streets of Blackpool we headed up north to the Lake District, where we were fortunate enough to have been lent the use of a rustic lakeside cottage for the weekend. Teeming with lush green hillsides and tucked away little pubs, it is the perfect place to disappear for a few days.
We were warned ahead of time that we should expect it to be very very cold. As it turned out, the cottage was several degrees colder than the outdoors and we were forced to put our industriousness to the test to heat up the space. As there were a finite number of space heaters in the house we could only heat two rooms, the living room and the bedroom. And so by 5pm we had arranged four space heaters in something of a semi circle around an ancient love seat, and were tucked under a duvet watching a VHS of L.A. Confidential like two geriatrics.
By all accounts, the weekend could have gone terribly terribly wrong. Blackpool is not much in the way of a UK “destination” city and the Lake District, while beautiful, is a challenge to get to without a car and on par with Scotland as far as “bracing” temperatures go. It could have gone terribly wrong, but it didn’t. And here’s why: I don’t think I ever stopped smiling.
Now, I’m not one to go into great detail about my personal life on this page. Yes, I share some thoughts and philosophise a bit from time to time, but I don’t usually share much actual information, partly because I’ve tried to stray away from making this blog an online diary and have instead tried to use it to share some important moments from the last year and a half.
So here’s the rub. This weekend, this moment that I’m describing, crosses the line, because even though on the surface it was just a weekend away, it was really much much more. It was the weekend I fell in love.
Surprised? Me too. But isn’t that when love is at its best? When it sneaks up behind you and holds you in a bear hug or when you catch it in the middle of a silent dance party with a can of Pringles?
And so there it was, the weekend that would likely have been a disaster with anyone else but instead began at a ridiculous ball, was spent playing killer scrabble games, enjoying sneaky pints, and running back and forth between the unheated rooms of the cottage screaming from the cold, and ended at a train station where neither of us could say goodbye.
I am being announced into dinner.
I am wearing a ball gown, I can’t stop giggling, and I am being announced into dinner.
Matt gives me a look that calms me down and we enter the ornate dining room of the Blackpool Imperial hotel, arm in arm, to the applause of two hundred formally clad members of the British Amusement Catering Trade Association.
I know you’re thinking, “why”? Kristen, why did you dig out your senior prom dress and head up to the seaside community of Blackpool to spend an evening with middle aged gambling and gaming centre proprietors and their spouses?
Because, as someone I know often says, “It’s a lifestyle.”
And in fact it is, from time to time. BACTA and its members are one of Macmillan’s corporate partners and routinely hold glamorous events, the proceeds of which go to help people affected by cancer across the UK. Sometimes, if I’m lucky, I get invited.
Now, it may not be the Metropolitan Museum Costume Institute Gala or the Bridge School Benefit, but when else would you get the chance to meet the Mayor and Mayoress of Blackpool, be announced into dinner with your “partner”, and seated at the VIP table as if you were some hot shot, instead of a 24-year-old displaced charity worker with a confusing North American accent? Where else would you see grown men and women pelting each other with styrofoam balls shot out of pea shooters? Or walk away from the tombola raffle with a 13” TV, a remote control car and a set of watercolours? I don’t think the Bridge School Benefit offers any of that.
This evening was actually only the beginning of one of the most memorable weekends I’ve had in the UK.
After Matt and I left the rag tag streets of Blackpool we headed up north to the Lake District, where we were fortunate enough to have been lent the use of a rustic lakeside cottage for the weekend. Teeming with lush green hillsides and tucked away little pubs, it is the perfect place to disappear for a few days.
We were warned ahead of time that we should expect it to be very very cold. As it turned out, the cottage was several degrees colder than the outdoors and we were forced to put our industriousness to the test to heat up the space. As there were a finite number of space heaters in the house we could only heat two rooms, the living room and the bedroom. And so by 5pm we had arranged four space heaters in something of a semi circle around an ancient love seat, and were tucked under a duvet watching a VHS of L.A. Confidential like two geriatrics.
By all accounts, the weekend could have gone terribly terribly wrong. Blackpool is not much in the way of a UK “destination” city and the Lake District, while beautiful, is a challenge to get to without a car and on par with Scotland as far as “bracing” temperatures go. It could have gone terribly wrong, but it didn’t. And here’s why: I don’t think I ever stopped smiling.
Now, I’m not one to go into great detail about my personal life on this page. Yes, I share some thoughts and philosophise a bit from time to time, but I don’t usually share much actual information, partly because I’ve tried to stray away from making this blog an online diary and have instead tried to use it to share some important moments from the last year and a half.
So here’s the rub. This weekend, this moment that I’m describing, crosses the line, because even though on the surface it was just a weekend away, it was really much much more. It was the weekend I fell in love.
Surprised? Me too. But isn’t that when love is at its best? When it sneaks up behind you and holds you in a bear hug or when you catch it in the middle of a silent dance party with a can of Pringles?
And so there it was, the weekend that would likely have been a disaster with anyone else but instead began at a ridiculous ball, was spent playing killer scrabble games, enjoying sneaky pints, and running back and forth between the unheated rooms of the cottage screaming from the cold, and ended at a train station where neither of us could say goodbye.
And the best part? This adventure was just the beginning...
1 comment:
ahhhhhhhh kristen, the miracle of corporate events. I love them.
I miss you!going to www.boutiquepubs.com for my birthday and you arent here. That makes me sad.
Have fun and keep us posted! x
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