As me and the others show our invites at the gates, I couldn’t help but feel shameful of how crumpled mine was. We walked quickly through the gates, and looked at each other confidently. Who would have ever thought that 5 bell ringers from St Ives would be invited to a queen’s garden party!

I guess I should have savoured the invitation, but I can’t even tell you what it said. I remember opening it and feeling the chills run down my back. Oh god, I thought to myself, they just had to use that eggshell blue.

“None of that funny business,’ Edgar whispered violently into my ear. ‘Just keep out of trouble, you skinny freak – just keep away from the menus.”

I’ve always hated Edgar, but I guess he has a point, so I just nod and then we walk towards the main garden.

Instantly I see exactly what he meant. Egg shell blue is all good for invitations, but there is no colour better suited for menus than lilacs. I watch as they are handed to each guest, nobody aware of the elegant beauty which they now hold in their fat sweaty hands. I suppose they don’t understand. I mean it’s a bit like women really, some people like blondes, and some people like brunettes, I just happen to really like lilac paper.

Just as I am about to be given my own menu, butterflies swarm in my stomach. I just cannot sit around watching the degradation of such beautiful paper. I just need to be alone with her; I need our first date to be just us. With this I grab my menu with my hand, and run back out through the gates: at least we can be alone now – I guess I’ll just apologize about the snatching later.

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