Where The Husband and my umbrella go into orbit...

Sophie Hannah was marvellous last night and I left a bigger fan than when I got to her reading.  Getting there however was a nightmare and The Husband and myself were nearly divorced as we tried to locate the village hall in the darkness and torrential rain.
"Look over there," I said, on our third lap of the village green.
"I can't look," husband said getting more exasperated, "I'm trying to drive on a narrow road, in the dark, in the rain, in case you didn't notice."
"But it's lit up, looks like a hall". He screeched to a halt.
It turned out to be totally inaccessible by road and as we were already late we abandoned the car on the green and stumbled up an unlit path, sloshing through hidden puddles that filled our shoes.
Husband was muttering about being soaked and I got a glimpse of myself in the glass in the hall doors.
"Look at my hair," I wailed, "it's  matted to my head,  I look  like I've been in an oil spill."
"Shhh, we'll sneak in at back,"  he said, getting crosser by the second,  as he struggled to pull the door open with rain dripping down his collar. He gave me one of his stern looks and said  "and for goodness sake when we get in there, try not to knock any thing over or bump into anything."
(Don't tell him this, but between you and me, he may have a point, as I am probably the most accident prone person on the planet).
"What is wrong with this blasted door?" he said pulling at the handle again, "maybe it's locked."
"Errm..."  I was just wondering if it might be a good time to point out the 'push to open sign' on the door but  a gust of wind caught my umbrella, snapping it completely inside out. Taken by surprise, I let it go and it took off at a ripping pace along the lane with me in hot pursuit,  before going into orbit. It was last seen headed for the pub roof (so if any one finds a purple umbrella with pink dots in it you know where its come from).
And so finally, we open door to hall expecting to creep discreetly into back row, only to find it set out with tables arranged in a 'horse shoe,' every eye upon us, in our bedraggled state.  Worse, every seat was taken as the audience tucked into tea and scones.  We sat at the side on two spare chairs kindly produced from the kitchen, and husband was even less amused to find that out of sixty people, he was one of only three men.

"Better be good cake." He said wringing out his scarf.