Miriam was as good as her word. She called me later the following week to say that the plans for our celebration were finalised. We were to have an annual conference and gala dinner, which we might even consider running every year.
Most people think that running a national conference is easy and that any old rubbish will suffice, but delegates always demand their ounce of flesh. This was going to have to be a close run ship. Miriam said she would pick me up at ISMS HQ and take me to the suggested venue for the conference.
At 10 a.m. Miriam pulled up in her Alfa Morayo; it was an awful mongolia colour. I climbed aboard and we shot off at top speed - like a bag of prawns in the mid-day sun. I knew she'd crashed her car once before, because she's a very erotic driver. "Slow down," I shouted, "you'll give me whip neck! You're the worst driver I've ever seen!". "That's slander and definition of character!" she replied. "Say anything like that again and I'll shoot your little green boots off! It's alright for you guys, but we're the ones that have to put up with all this pre-mental suspension."
We arrived some twenty minutes later at the Plaza hotel and country club. It looked quite splendid from the outside. Gardeners were hoovering the grass and I could just see the sea over the cliff tops. We entered the hotel and walked over to the reception desk. Marion said who we were and asked to speak to the manager. The receptionist explained that he wasn't here at the moment, he was in the other orifice, pruning himself in the mirror. She asked if she could gets a drink while we waited for the manger. "Zwei grand beer, sil vous plait", I said, impressing everyone with in ear shot.
After a few minutes relaxing with our drinks the receptionist said "Ah, here comes our illustrated manager now!" Just as well, as I was starting to drink myself into Bolivia again. The manager listed to our conference plans and requirements. Marion gave him a copy to read and he agreed to look at it through a fine tooth comb. He was obviously hoping for some ex-gracias payments.
While we were there the manager offered to show us his facilities. We declined but said we wouldn't mind a look round his hotel and grounds. "Let's get this ball on the road!", I said, with growing enthusiasm.
The manager agreed to take us on a tour of the grounds providing one of his drivers was available. He called to one of the receptionists, "Hey, John, what's driver Geordie Smith's first name?" "No idea!", came the reply.
The manager said he would drive us himself using one of the wildlife park vehicles - they were white with leopard stripes on the sides. "You'll like this", he said, "it'll be right up your lane!"
He was right. The hotel and facilities were ideal. The conference was to be set up for the following month. Miriam and the manager talked long into the evening, agreeing the final details.
