An invitation to dine at the home of one of Muswell Hill’s leading comedy scriptwriters was gratefully received by The Wattmeister and The Wattmeisterin. There really is nothing quite like free food and drink to both boost the ‘feelgood factor’, and to produce those precious extra watts.
The culinary presentation and content was so fine, that it will be exceedingly difficult to emulate when the invitation is returned.
Avoiding politics at all costs, much of the conversation revolved around a shared love of scrabble, elderly parents and what it’s like to be a middle-aged half-Jewish former top sprinter.
The host is rightly proud of his marvellous head of thick, lush hair, which although it begins to show signs of greying gracefully with the passing years, is a proud symbol of his virility in the depths of middle age. It is also a sign of hiding in the peloton, protected from the ravages of the wind.
His wife, The Hostess, is untouched by the ageing process with barely a line or wrinkle on her smooth skin. She could be either the mother or the daughter in the Oil of Ulay advert.
After a most enjoyable meal, for which The Wattmeister respectfully used the cutlery provided, and an abundance of free flowing wine, the delicate situation arose of just when is the correct time to leave, thus avoiding the embarrassment of overstaying one’s welcome, (and being invited to help with the washing up).
In this case, the moment presented itself as the Host’s hairline began to recede as the clock ticked towards midnight.