I have spent the weekend eating. In my defence, it wasn’t covertly, alone in my room, having pretended to the nice lady at the Waitrose checkout that I was having a party. It was in public, with my friends. On Saturday, I had my second ever engagement party. (Yes, I’ve been dragged to engagement parties as a child, but this was different. This time, I was actually invited). I arrived late (not because I am impossibly rude, but because, as I had dutifully warned the hostess, I was working in the morning). ‘Hello!’ I said cheerfully to whoever opened the door. ‘Which way is the food?’ I headed out to the garden, ignoring the laden plates of salads.
(Only idiots get waylaid by salads. This was certainly not my first BBQ). I stood at the entrance to the garden. I could see the BBQ, glimmering hopefully in the background. But first I had to make it there.
The garden was littered with my friends. I put on my sunglasses to protect myself. I took a deep breath, put my head down, and started out towards the BBQ. ‘Hello!’ I said vaguely to the people I passed. Some of them tried to talk to me. ‘What would Liam Neeson do?’ I muttered to myself. ‘Well, he probably wouldn’t have worn heels,’ I scolded myself, as I got stuck in the lawn.
I reached the BBQ. For a moment, I was confused. I thought, distantly, that I might have made a terrible faux pas. What if, even though I’d arrived late, no-one had started eating yet? I was surrounded by meat.
I surreptitiously snuck a look behind me, and relaxed. Everyone had eaten. My hosts had clearly used this engagement party as an opportunity to help spend the UK out of the recession. I began to pile my plate as high as possible. (Which, in case any one is wondering, is very high. It’s all a matter of building a solid base of similar-sized sausages).
‘Happy engagement,’ I mumbled to my friend through a mouthful of burger. ‘I now see why you wanted to get married. The food here is fantastic.’ My friend laughed, but I saw the gleam of delight in her eyes as her fiance approached us with pudding.
One response to “Eating (not alone, with people)”
Isn’t this why we get married? So we can eat inexcusably large amounts of food, quit our diets, and finally be happy?