Mrs. E. and I are off this afternoon for a country wedding. Well, sort of a country wedding. She is an aerospace engineer and he is a Marine Aviator. She helped design his plane. How’s that for romantic? The wedding will be held at Keswick Hall, which, it turns out isn’t pronounced “Kezick” as I thought. The property is now a part of the Orient-Express family, but it was once owned by Laura Ashley, which it was the last time we visited. Unfortunately, I don’t ride and I doubt there’ll be any beagleling and it’s too damned cold for ballooning, even with Champagne. Still, it promises to be a delightful time and we’re looking forward to it. (Click through the photo above and go watch the movie.)
The prospect of stepping across the threshold … without the shaker that made the journey when we were driven last visit… has had me sequestered in the closet staring at the wardrobe looking to divine the perfect travelling/wedding/Brunch ensembles. Wedding and brunch are taken care of: one serious and double-breasted navy bird’seye with the new EE&L cocktail cuff high collared shirt and a glen plaid tie, one Harris tweed sportcoat, Fair Isle sleeveless sweater, bowtie and grey flannels. But tonight is the rehearsal dinner (Mrs. E. is Matron of Honour.) Since it’s after six o’clock in the evening, I would opt for black tie, but it has not been called for. Grey/blue windowpane flannel suit with a white waistcoat and black and white spotted bowtie? The thing is, this isn’t some draughty old estate. Last time I wore an odd vest, I half melted.
Perhaps it’s time to start wondering what the Duke of Windsor would do instead of Bertie Wooster. I must remember: Elegance is refusal. Or is it restraint?
At any rate, off to fill the flask. Photos next week, if I remember to take them.