At the end of the evening, I asked Ann if she always carried props such as an entire archive of family snapshots. The reply was, ‘Of course’.
Blitz and W.W.2 spirit have nothing on A.W.C and Ann Burnett. With our speaker stranded in Paisley, it was decided, without any further to-do, that we were to invent for each of ourselves a history of great exaggeration and bravado based on a tissue – nay blanket – of lies. Then came the difficult part, we had to add three truths. When the revelations came we seemed to be in somewhat confusion (and I should think always will be for the rest of our lives) as to who was really or not the best beauty contest winner, scuba diver (or indeed married to one), the cutest little whorehouse madam in Melbourne, Fiat 500 fiend or even attic fanatic, to name but a few claims or disclaims. Sorely suffering delusions of grandeur, we took our tea break – or was it for champagne and caviar?
Suitably stimulated and refreshed, we continued. Four groups of novelists went to work on Ann’s eclectic photograph collection to pull family members and friends from all over the world from their pictures, reassemble their situations and send them on more travels than Marco Polo. There were caravans, trailers, campers, and ships of the desert, tales of daring-do, skulduggery, genealogy, romance and crocodiles sighted in Carntyne – or was it Kelvin?
For those who braved the elements, I am sure that disappointment over the lack of the promised event was short lived, thanks to Ann and all who turned up. Thoughts and sympathies go to colleagues who were not able to make it through bad weather and ill-health, not least to our joint president, Sheila, who valiantly appeared only to beat a hasty retreat, feeling too sick to stay – hope you are feeling a whole lot better. The good news is that Sheila Templeton has been rescheduled to the 8th of February, the bad, absentees on the 25th missed an enjoyable session.
Simon Kekewich