Any of you seen this 70’s play of a really cringeworthy dinner party? It’s so embarrassing that it’s difficult to watch – a bit like I found The Office with Ricky Gervais. Anyway, let me get it clear that I would not categorise J in the mould of Alison Steadman who played the overbearing, hoity-toity hostess of the dinner party – well maybe a little bit - and I certainly would not align myself with her perpetually nagged husband. Well – maybe a lot actually!
But back to Saturday night. I’ve had so many messages, texts, e-mails desperate to know how ‘feeding the Frenchies’ went that I thought I’d give a blow by blow account of the action and in order to do this I have to take myself back and float in the ether watching the whole thing unfold, including my numerous faux-pas.
It all started with me laying the table for 6 people until J ‘informed’ me that there would be 8 people present. Ok – I merely adjusted the table plan which meant using 2 sets of crap cutlery cause our canteen (why do they call it a canteen of cutlery?) only has place settings for 6. I never asked who the other two were – mine’s was not to reason why – JUST DO IT !
The terrace looked like a Gordon Ramsay restaurant with potted plants, candles and soft lighting but unfortunately I forgot to remove Shadow’s food and water bowls which somewhat spoiled the look, especially as the bluebottles and wasps were swarming over a piece of rancid meat. Never mind.
People arrived right on time just as I finished my second glass of wine and second cigarette (I need to get myself in the right frame of mind for these things) and it all started off swimmingly. There was Jacques and Madeline, a French couple who both worked for IBM and therefore have something in common with J and myself, plus another Frenchie, Jean (as in John). Then there was Helen who is a UK based writer and business consultant, the Reverend Anne and J and myself. Oh – and I nearly forgot the Floridian Miranda or Mirabelle or somebody – she said ‘call me Mimi’, so I did. It was easier to remember.
Now Helen is quite reserved (or do I mean polite?) as are Jacques, Madeline and Jean and come to think of it J which left me and Mimi (a perfectly formed size zero I would say) and the Reverend Anne to keep the fun going. But more of that later, first the nosh.
The starter was a red and yellow pepper tart and I have to say my lovely wife did a masterful job with it (there I’ve said something nice about her) although if I hadn’t rescued it from the cats the night before we might have been having salt and vinegar crisps and pickled onions. Anyway, the tart survived (no – not J !) and everybody said how nice it was.
The main course was a whole poached salmon which had been marinated in honey and ginger and apart from the bones (which only I seemed to get) was unanimously declared delicious although I have to say that I prefer my potato salad to have potatoes smaller than the chipping variety. Small is beautiful dear if you’re reading this.
Dessert was a new line in chocolate mousse – one you pour instead of spooning. Our guests were gracious in their support. Needless to say I declined the mousse and instead went for the Bird’s Blancmange although I’m not too keen on the banana flavoured one. I jest – J also made a creamy, wobbly thing with mixed berries. Very good darling although the lactose intolerant Mimi (I said lactose not laxative) wasn’t able to eat it and fed me her portion instead.
So that’s the food – ah no – there was cheese at some point in the evening but by the time the cheese came round I was intoxicated with the two beautiful women who sat on each side of me (not two on each side – one on each side making two in total). There was the Reverend Anne who, readers of my blog will know, I’ve invited several times to play a round, and in her response she reminds me of that Dick Emery character who says, ‘oh – you are awful’. Of course the French guests were appalled at my behavior (‘Vot – you vont to play around wiv Anne’) until I explained that it was golf I was talking about (which really confused the Frenchies) and from then on it all went downhill.
The rather expensive white wine I’d bought was declared ‘wonderful’ by one of the Frenchies until I opened the 3rd bottle – it was corked. I opened the 4th bottle – also corked. I couldn’t believe it. Normally one bottle out of 50 you buy is corked but two out of four – incroyable!
Then as I was talking intently to Mimi who was on my other side, my chair splintered, split and crashed to the ground with me on it. Cool as ever but covered in the mixed berries which I hadn’t quite put into my mouth as I disappeared from sight, I regained my composure and took another seat from the lounge and carried on as if nothing had happened. The guests were too polite to say anything but I did notice a few of them surreptitiously checking their chairs.
And that’s about all I can remember. I vaguely recall the guests leaving (except Helen who was staying over) but I do remember waking up with the most awful hangover in the morning thinking there was something important happening that day. Oh yes – we had a fiftieth birthday party! It never stops!
No comments:
Post a Comment