My Frugal Friends Invited Me to Their Birthday Party—But I Came Home Hungry

Author Walton MerrittReading 3 minViews 2

My frugal friends invited me to their birthday party. I came home hungry.

I have some friends I affectionately call the penny-pinchers. They save money on nearly everythingfood, clothes, you name it. Its not that theyre poor; in fact, theyre quite well-off. They always have plenty of pounds tucked away. So really, they can afford just about anything.

I only visit them if theres a special reason. Otherwise, we simply ring each other on the phone. Last month, they asked me round for a birthday. I went, and returned home absolutely famished.

On the chosen day, I tucked a neatly wrapped gift into my handbag and set off for work. Theyd invited me for four in the afternoon. So, at lunchtime, I only had a cup of tea and two shortbread biscuits, convinced Id feast at the party. I hadnt eaten much, expecting the celebration.

Anyway, I arrived punctually at their place. I handed over the present, wished happiness and good health, and joked, Im ravenoussaved my appetite for tonight! My mate grinned and replied, Dont worry, everythings sorted.

There were six guests, plus the hosts themselves. When we entered the sitting room, there was no dining table in sight. I twigged theyd planned some sort of buffet. No chairs either, simply a small settee squished up by the wall. It would have been nice to settle in for a hearty meal after work, not squeeze eight of us onto a tiny sofa. Oh well, a buffet it was. My friend brought out a little, round table loaded with food. Right then, I regretted making do with only two biscuits for lunch.

On the table(and yes, I counted the slices, unashamed)were a few tiny plates. Each plate had precisely eight slices upon them. Eight slices of smoked pork sausage (which I adore), eight of ham, eight of cheddar cheese. Sliced tomatoes and cucumbersalso exactly eight each. Everything shaved paper-thin, arranged prettily. There were two petite salads in dainty bowls, and fruit strictly apportioned for eight people. Completing the grand spread was a solitary bottle of wine. In short: eat, drink, and be merry, dear guests.

I sat nibbling my sausage and cheese, still hunger gnawing at me. I hardly dared sip the wine, wary of drinking on such sparse fare. My friend said, Ill fetch something hot. I perked up, finally expecting a proper meal. The lady of the house brought out the hot dish.

On each plate, a single roasted potato and one baked chicken drumstick. Exactly one apiece! It bordered on absurd. At least the birthday cake was normal-sized. We all laughed, and I must admit, the company was lovely. After an hour and a half, I left, my stomach empty and longing for dinner.

On my way home, I popped into the supermarket and picked up a few bits. Back in my flat, I treated myself to a solid meal. In that way, my penny-pinching friends saved on their guests.

Why invite people for a birthday if you cantor wontgive them a proper welcome?

Don’t Leave, Mum: A Family Story There’s an old saying: people aren’t like nuts—you can’t crack them right away. But Tamara Watson was sure that was nonsense. She prided herself on reading people perfectly! Her daughter, Millie, had married just a year ago. Tamara had dreamed of her daughter finding the right man, starting a family, and welcoming grandchildren. She imagined herself as the proud matriarch of their sprawling, happy brood, just as she had always been. Russell seemed clever and certainly wasn’t short of money—and he was obviously a bit smug about it. But the newlyweds insisted on living independently, as Russ had his own flat, and it seemed they didn’t need Tamara’s advice about anything! She could see he was clearly a bad influence on Millie! This arrangement didn’t fit with Tamara’s plans at all. Russell got right under her skin. “Mum, you just don’t understand—Russell grew up in care. He’s worked for everything, he’s strong and kind,” Millie would protest. But Tamara would just purse her lips and find new faults with Russell. He was not at all the person he pretended to be in front of her daughter! And it was her motherly duty to open Millie’s eyes to this vacant man before it was too late! No degree, difficult to talk to, uninterested in anything! At weekends, he just slumped in front of the telly, claiming he needed to “rest!” And her daughter wanted to spend her life with someone like that? No way! She was sure Millie would thank her in the end. And what about the children, her future grandchildren—what kind of father would teach them anything worthwhile?! All in all, Tamara was bitterly disappointed. Russell, sensing his mother-in-law’s mood, started avoiding the family. They spoke less and less, and Tamara eventually refused to step foot in their flat. Millie’s dad, ever the gentle soul, kept neutral, knowing what his wife could be like. One night, Millie rang Tamara sounding frantic: “Mum, I didn’t tell you, but I’m away for work for two days. Russell caught a chill on site, came home early, and isn’t answering my calls.” “Milly, why are you telling me this?” Tamara exploded. “You two are so independent now, don’t seem to care about us! If something’s wrong with me, nobody notices! And now you wake me up at night to say your husband’s ill? Are you alright in the head?” “Mum, please…” Millie’s voice trembled with worry, “It just hurt that you think Russell’s no good, when he’s not like that at all. How could you think I’d marry someone bad? Don’t you trust me?” Tamara was silent. “Mum, please, you’ve got our spare key. Can you go and check on him? I’m really worried—something’s wrong with Russ. Please, Mum!” “Alright, but only for you,” Tamara said, waking her husband. When they arrived, no one answered the bell, so Tamara let herself in. “It’s probably nothing—maybe he’s not home?” her husband suggested, but Tamara’s anxiety grew. She entered the living room—and froze. Russell was sprawled on the sofa, burning with fever. The paramedic who arrived nodded sympathetically: “Looks like your son’s got complications from a cold—kept working through it, I bet?” “He works hard,” Tamara nodded. “He’ll be okay. Keep an eye on him, ring if anything changes.” Russell slept, and Tamara found herself sitting at his bedside all night—the son-in-law she’d resented for so long. He looked younger, softer, asleep—a far cry from his usual self. “Mum—don’t go, Mum,” Russell murmured in his sleep, gripping her hand. Tamara was stunned. But she didn’t pull away. She sat there beside him until dawn. At sunrise, Millie rang again: “Mum, sorry to put you through this—I’ll be home soon, you don’t need to come around, I think it’ll all work out.” “It will, darling, it already has,” Tamara said gently. “We’re here, and everything’s alright.” ***** When Millie’s first child was born, Tamara was the first to offer her help. Russell kissed her hand in gratitude: “See, Millie? You said your mum wouldn’t want to help us.” Tamara, proudly cradling baby Timothy, paraded around the flat, whispering to the newborn: “Little Tim, you’re a lucky lad! You’ve got the best mum, dad, and grandparents! What a life you’ll have!” Perhaps the old saying is true: people aren’t like nuts—you can’t crack them straight away. It’s only love that helps you truly understand each other.

She Was Never Truly Alone: An Ordinary Story It was a late winter morning as daylight crept in. Outside, council workers scraped snow from the close with their sturdy shovels. The heavy front door banged shut again and again, ushering in and out the flood of neighbours hurrying off to work. On the sixth-floor windowsill, Felix the cat observed it all with quiet curiosity. In his previous life, Felix had been a city banker, concerned only with money and numbers—never pausing to consider what else life might hold. But now, he understood that kindness, companionship, and a warm roof overhead far outweighed worldly wealth. Felix glanced back. There, on the old sagging sofa, slept Nan Val, his saviour and best friend. He slinked down from the window and curled up at her pillow, soft fur pressed gently against her silvered head. Felix knew Nan Val’s head ached each morning, and he did what he could to help. “Felix, you’re quite the little healer!” she murmured as she awoke to his gentle warmth. “That pain’s gone, you clever boy—how do you do it?” Felix gave his paw a nonchalant shake as if to say, “It’s nothing—I could do much more if you asked!” But then a low, jealous grumble echoed from the hallway: it was Gav, the terrier. Gav had been Nan Val’s loyal companion for many years. At the first sound of unfamiliar footsteps, he always barked with gusto, protecting his home and the woman he loved. No doubt he fancied himself the true master of the flat. “What was he in a past life?” mused Felix. “A police constable, maybe—or a foreman. Loud and bossy, but perhaps that’s just what a guard dog should be!” “My darlings, what would I do without you?” Nan Val sighed fondly, shuffling to her feet. “Now, time for breakfast—then off for a little walk.” “And if the pension comes in this week, I’ll buy us a chicken!” At the word “chicken,” a wave of excitement swept the room. Felix kneeded the sofa with his paws, purring so loudly it made Nan Val chuckle. He nuzzled her thin arthritic hand with his broad furry head. “Oh, you wise old boy—you understand every word, don’t you?” she sighed in delight. Gav barked in agreement and bumped his cold nose against her knee. “They’re such loving souls,” Nan Val thought, smiling. “Home is warmer and the heart less lonely with them near.” “When I’m gone, who knows what comes next? Everyone’s got an opinion, but who can say for sure? If I had my choice, I’d come back as a cat—so long as a kind person would take me in. As a dog, I don’t think I’d manage—all that barking. I’m too soft-spoken for that. But a cat? I’d make a gentle, affectionate one, I’m sure. Just let me land with good people.” “Goodness gracious, what strange ideas!” she scolded herself. “That’s what old age does to your mind.” She didn’t notice Felix’s sly whiskered smile as he glanced at Gav, silently thinking: “See—she wants to be a cat, not a dog.” After all, Felix had learned to read minds these days—a rather nice bonus, really. And that’s how things stood, in their little flat above the snowy streets of England.