There's a lovely tradition here: you're not allowed to knock on anyone's door unless you've been invited.
It doesn't entirely work in practice. This morning's example was the Chairman, who appeared with some visitors in tow. 'I'm quite put out,' he declared, 'this is the room I'm normally given when I stay.'
I waffled about feeling terribly privileged, and then went on to Louis MacNeice, and snow, and roses.
And when they left, I turned slowly, praying that I wouldn't see a vista of wine bottles or laundry.
It looked pretty neat. Phew.
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2 comments:
I didn't know that!! I knocked on doors. They knocked on mine. How do you invite someone to knock on your door?! ;)
You seem to have really loved your time at the TGC. I'm delighted for you. N x
Maybe it's a piece of recent legislation - they have it on the blurb awaiting in your room, laminated and all.
Ah, a door-knocking invite - this is where the language of fans would come in handy. Fan over face & fluttered = an invite; fan tapped against left wrist = seriously, it's your turn to load the dishwasher :-)
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