Nigel, my old walking in the rain pal, hang on, hang on. I've been away on projects and home responsibilities a long time, and am horrified to come back and read your last last paragraph. What's this about the Megameet?
Loie and I have plane tickets, reservations, high hopes and great anticipations for seeing all of you this summer. We were under the impression the date was set last year, hoping to avoiding the crowds and complications expected of the Games and the Immanentization of the Eschaton, if anyone now remembers?
Please tell me that we haven't made a mistake! I won't, here and now, talk about our expected dates, just in case there might be a secret I'm supposed to keep, but please, please tell me our now chiseled in stone itinerary is not in vain, and that we can expect to see you and all our TMA friends on the date supposedly agreed on last year.
I was so expecting to have dozens of people standing me scrumpies in the Red Lion. While it teemed rain ourside.
Or, if things aren't working out the way we thought, I suppose I could just demand all you squabbling children show up on our date and buy me scrumpy anyhow. Otherwise, you just wait until your Father gets home. That's all I'm going to say. You Just Wait!
Your Mother Goddess in Unrecognizable Disguise (Having, if nothing else, at least still The Hair)