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"It was a country house dinner party. No fewer than ten of Hampshire's more prominent stiffs had been invited to the trough, and they stuck on like limpets long after any competent chucker-out would have bounced them. No doubt, if you
have gone to the sweat of driving twenty miles to a house to dine, you don't feel like snatching a chop and dashing off. You hang on for the musical
evening and the drinks at ten-thirty.
The Mating Season, 1949
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Welcome to Casa de Evans. The Evans Compound. Chateau
d'Evans. The Blenheim of Omaha. You get the idea. We've been slowly working on
bringing the old home up to par. We've exorcised the poltergeists in the attic,
though the odd squirrel does manage to get in and rattle about. We've replaced
28 windows, miles of plumbing, bits of electrical work, and felled the ancestral
timber so we can get to the doors without the use of a machete and a native
guide. Except for tripping over a menagerie of cats & dogs, its getting to
be quite comfy.
Unfortunately, most of these pictures are
really old,
but at least you get the idea of what we've made of the place.