My thrifty friends invited me to a birthday bash. I came home starving.
I have some friends I affectionately refer to as careful with the pennies. They save on absolutely everything food, clothes, you name it. And its not because they’re short on cash; they’re actually rather well-off and never seem to be scraping the barrel. They could easily splash out on fancy things.
I only visit them when theres a proper reason. We just ring each other up if its nothing special. Last month, they invited me to their birthday celebration. I went, and let me tell you, I returned home hungrier than when I left.
On the day, I popped the birthday gift I’d bought into my handbag and headed to work. The party was set for four oclock. I thought, No point eating much; Ill be wined and dined soon, so for lunch I had nothing but a coffee and two shortbread biscuits. I was saving myself, you see, for the big shindig.
Anyway, I arrived promptly at the appointed hour. Handed over the present, wished health and happiness, and announced, half-jokingly, that I was as hungry as a bear after hibernation because I hadnt eaten in anticipation of the fabulous party spread. My mate replied with a grin, Dont worry, were all set!
There were six guests and the hosts. When I walked into the lounge and noticed there was no table, I realised theyd gone for a buffet arrangement. Not a chair in sight, just a limp little sofa. Wouldve been nice to have a proper meal and a seat at the table after a long day at work rather than cramming eight people onto something resembling a glorified footstool. Never mind, buffet it is.
My friend set up a tiny, round table with nibbles. Here comes the punchline: I rather regretted relying on those two shortbread biscuits earlier.
On the table (not that I minded, I even counted call me shameless) were a few dainty plates. Each one bore precisely eight slices: eight pieces of smoked sausage (my favourite, of course), eight slices of roast beef, eight bits of cheddar. Fresh tomatoes and cucumbers, also cut into eight whisper-thin slices each. It was minimalist, but artistically arranged. There were also two teensy salads in miniature bowls, and the fruit was carefully doled out strictly one piece per guest. Completing this feast, there stood a solitary bottle of wine. Well, eat, drink and be merry, folks!
So there I sat, nibbling my morsel of sausage and cheese, my stomach protesting. I didnt even fancy a drink far too risky without a buffer! My mate piped up, Hold on, Ill bring something hot. I thought, Here we go, the main event! The hostess emerged with the hot dish.
On the plate? One roast potato and one tiny chicken drumstick each. I almost burst out laughing. At least the cake wasnt one of those single-serve jobs; it was full sized. In fairness, we did have a jolly time. But after ninety minutes, I left, ravished.
On my way home, I nipped into Tesco and grabbed some actual groceries. Back at my place, I finally had a proper dinner. Thats how my friends managed to economise on their guests.
Honestly, if youre going to throw a birthday party, is it too much to ask for enough grub to keep the guests from gnawing their own arms on the way home?
