I was reminiscing with my Husband Pierre at the weekend and we were reminded of a hilarious evening we had a few years ago when we were invited to a dinner party.
This is how the evening went:
We arrived a mere five minutes early, we were greeted by the host and informed that his wife was still in the bath. He then started faffing on in the kitchen, without offering us a drink, even though we had arrived with wine (and flowers). Thirty minutes later his wife came down, she apologised for not being there to greet us, but she had suffered an extremely stressful day, she did not elaborate. I asked if we were early and we were told no, but the other three couples were always late. Eventually we were offered a drink, I asked for white wine with ice, there was no ice and the white wine wasn’t chilled. Pierre asked for a beer, there wasn’t any, so he asked for red wine, the host went to the fridge and brought out the red wine. The white wine was on a table next to the radiator, which was full on.
I asked if I could help with anything, as one does in these situations, the hostess directed me to the fridge and asked me to make the starters!. I did as I was told and created smoked salmon, with shrimp, salad and dressing, this took almost half an hour, just as I finished the other guests arrived.
Eventually we were directed to the dining room, the dining table was sort of set and had burned out tealights all over it, there was an ironing board leaning up against the chairs and there was an iron on the sideboard, oh and not enough chairs for the amount of guests! It gets worse…. really!
So the starters went down well (!) and the main course eventually arrived an hour later, we were served chicken breast stuffed with cheese and sundried tomatoes, yummy I thought, until all discovered it was still raw, so therefore it had to go back in the oven and we were told just to dig in to the veg. Half an hour later back it came, as people started eating it, one guest started coughing and spat out half a cocktail stick. It turned out the host and pinned the chicken together with cocktail sticks and then broken off the top so that the sticks wouldn’t be on show! It’s a miracle nobody died, by this time I had the paramedics phone number loaded into my speed dial.
Eventually it was time for dessert, the hostess appeared with two cakes in the supermarket boxes and began unboxing them at the table, she reminded her husband not to forget the cheese, so he reached down to the floor, under the table, next to his feet and started bringing up pieces of cheese (still wrapped, phew !), explaining he was next to the radiator and he wanted them at room temperature. Pierre and I didn’t indulge in the cheeseboard that evening.
To top it all off, the other couples were a nightmare. They were extreme snobs with unbelievably high opinions of themselves, they were stand- offish and all they wanted to talk about was left wing politics, they obviously didn’t like us much and whenever we tried to engage them we were brushed off, still you can’t be liked by everybody, or indeed anybody at this party!.
Pierre and I both agreed it was probably the worst night out we had ever spent together and we also agreed that we were very happy to make it out alive!.