It's not fair...

By Paul Fulford on September 27, 2008 8:35 PM | Permalink

Like some lonely phantom, I am tonight wandering the upper corridors of my house while, below, wine glasses chink, laughter rings out and food is enjoyed.

My wife has invited two of her old (oops...bad choice of word there) friends from university for dinner and, because I didn't get round to organising anything to do, I'm at home and under strict orders to make myself scarce. In my own house. On Saturday night.

And, to make matters worse, they are eating food that I've cooked: silky, home-made pasta turned into ravioli stuffed with ricotta and spinach and served with a light tomato sauce.

It's tempting to claim that I cooked out of a goodness of spirit that makes me a prince among men. But that's probably overstating my saintliness.

I cooked (a) because I love cooking, (b) because I like to show off my culinary skills and (c) because only really, really stupid husbands fail to seize the opportunity to ingratiate themselves with their wives.

The time will come to poke my head round the door, say hello, linger for a few words of praise and linger a little longer in the hope I can cadge a glass of the white rioja I bought from Connolly's this morning.

Or I could just find myself a heavy chain and clunk round the landing making the pitiful noises of a ghost.

No...the rioja sounds more fun.