11 December 2015, 2 pm
Now I am at the grand ITMA Christmas lunch. As planned, I am wearing my navy blue, mid-life carrier bag. I am glad I ignored the ITMA President when he told me it was a fancy dress party: no one else is in fancy dress, apart from a few who have come as trade mark attorneys. We eat some rather posh food. I am particularly taken with the idea of only having four sprout leaves on my plate rather than a complete undivided sprout. This is an excellent way of addressing the Christmas Sprout Problem, much better than the usual ones such as Let’s Pretend Sprouts Are OK If You Put Them With Chestnuts. The ITMA President has to stay sober in order to make an after-lunch speech. Of course, I would not have bothered if I were in his shoes. But that is why we don’t have a grand CIPA Christmas lunch. The speech is very good. The President says a lot of it has been written by other people and the bits that haven’t, he has forgotten how to pronounce. He thanks several people for being there, including me, which is definitely a part of the speech that was written by someone else and probably by someone who has not met me. After the speech, the rather posh waiters come round asking the blokes whether they would like some further drinks. They do not ask me if I would like some further drinks. I presume this is because I am a woman rather than because I look as if I have already had too many further drinks. It is, in fact, a genuine “brandy and cigars” moment. I have just been told, in the subtlest possible way, that it is time for me to retire to the room with the piano and the needlework in, to talk about Mr Darcy with the trade mark attorneyettes. The age of chivalry is not yet dead, it seems. We are in a city that still harbours gentlemen’s clubs. I am so gobsmacked that all I can do is laugh.
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
Archives
July 2019
Categories |