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Off to a party with friends of the Mrs…heaven help me

Tom Winnifrith
Saturday 21 March 2015

A younger wife means that I have to attend parties, something a man of my age should be dodging. Cocoa, slippers and a quiet night watching Midsommer Murders with Oakley, that is what I want on a Saturday evening, not a trip up to London for a party.

At least it will be recognised that I am an older man so I will be offered a seat in the corner where I can fall asleep as the young folk stand, chat and do whatever young folk do. Texting? Drugs? I just don’t know.

The hosts are among the least mad of the friends of the Mrs. That is to say they only fairly left wing and as it happens I like them. I am not sure it is mutual, as among the friends of my wife I sense that I am regarded as a reactionary and grumpy old man. I can think of fewer greater compliments.

But suffice to say I shall tonight be among a cabal of mad lefties who blame everything on Thatcher, bankers, capitalists and the Tories (plus George Bush). Normally on such occasions I find it simplest to feign illness or sleep deprivation and let it all wash over me but occasionally I rise to the bait.

Wish me luck.

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About Tom Winnifrith
Tom Winnifrith is the editor of When he is not harvesting olives in Greece, he is (planning to) raise goats in Wales.
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