After the usual warp and weft of the day I had Audrey and Neville Gosport to supper. I don’t know where these two old relics had been dragged up from but Simon-in-the-office insisted on having them come barging into my abode and helping themselves to the good stuff. The most ridiculous part, to my mind, is that this was all done in the name of getting old Gosport to place some advertising in the magazine. It made me feel rather glum as I chased the peas round the plate with my fork to think of Claude’s cold cuts as being offered up as advertising for the the advertising.
All of a sudden during a bit of a lull in the proceedings Audrey actually nodded off. “Ho Ho” I thought. This should set old Gosport off, he won’t like this. I waited for the action, poised with a slab of ham inches from the mandibles in case I needed to deploy some emergency verbiage. Would you believe it but Gosport hadn’t noticed? He just chuntered on as though the whole world must be as fascinated with his collection of various diameter screwdrivers as he was. After a few more minutes he suddenly said “oh Audrey’s nodded off”.
I started to say something about it when he fell fast asleep himself. That, I must say, brightened my evening quite considerably. I called for more claret and tiptoed through the desert. After a further half an hour I woke them, assured them they’d had a lovely evening and called them a cab.