Why polite conversations should never deviate from the weather.

By Ross Levere

Dinner parties, as we all know, are sophisticated evenings where etiquette and class override our basic desire for a meal in front of the television. Style magazines inform us the preparation for such an evening can be almost effortless should you choose the correct avenues and that, as always, appearance is paramount. Those wishing to make an impression are encouraged by classy TV chefs to indulge their guests with exotic cuisine and the more confusing the cutlery the greater the achievement. Wine is no longer a simple question of red or white, today we are bombarded with information regarding regions and grapes which cannot simply be over looked by the appeal of supermarket discounts. New outfits are a necessity; to wear something one has worn before just won’t do, that is, whilst fashion is too fickle an acquaintance to try and embrace. Yet despite such an abundance of horrors it is to the dinner party that people stay faithful, the reason being that a good one is not easily forgotten. The fortunes of many a millionaire having at some point been dependant on whether it was best for scented or natural wax candles. Regardless of suitability for the job, it was table manners rather than experience which caught many a powerful eye in the corporate world.

With this in mind Kate stood nervously peering through the already greasy window of her new oven door at the pink chicken entombed within which would never be ready by 8 o’clock. Her guests, by now on their way, would have to wait, their patience paid in full with a generous offer of extra wine purloined from her husbands personal collection. Having been married for 5 years Jim and Kate knew each others quirks rather well and in an emergency such as this Jim would always bury his resentment and offer up the cheapest bottle for consumption. This occasion however was rather more crucial than inviting over old friends, tonight it would have to be something spectacular, a wine of immense superiority. With Kate having toiled for three years in a job she loathed tonight was the opportunity for promotion, no more early mornings and late nights should three simple courses convince the man in a suit. So it was that Jim picked out a particular favourite he had intended to save for a more guaranteed celebration, an Italian red which had been with him for almost as long as his wife. But having never tried it before there was always the possibility that it wouldn’t appeal to him anyway and so it made sense to impress these people with the name and hope for the best.

Luckily for both Jim and Kate their guests were delayed, giving time for the wine to breathe, the chicken to cook and Kate to re-apply her makeup. In the dinner party circle punctuality is crucial, should one be late it implies tardiness and can lead to the cancellation of the highly coveted cheeseboard. Fully aware of this Kate felt it best to wave such trivialities and assign their lateness to traffic which no individual has the power to control. By 9 o’clock everyone had assumed their seat having made their apologies and offered their assistance. The wine turned out to be rather pleasant which caused Jim some discomfort at the fact that he’d now nothing more than an empty bottle for his years of patience.