Relationships Blog
Dating Diary
Feb 1, 2008: eating my words
In this week's instalment of Linda Franklin's frank, funny and fearless dating diary, Linda unwisely invites Hank for a home-cooked dinner
Hank the Yank texted: 'In UK 4 a few days - fancy meeting?'
In a spirit of reckless abandon I texted back: 'Yeah - come here for dinner: I'll cook!' (And yes I really do put in punctuation.)
'Great - Saty 7pm. Some real English home cooking at last! Txt me ur addy.'
'What were you thinking, chicken?' A horrified Ewan said over the phone. 'You should have made him take you out! He'll be expecting steak and oyster pudding followed by trifle! Or raised game pie! - how is your hot water crust these days?'
'As it happens, Ewan, I am a pretty good cook - once did jugged hare! Which was pretty heroic...'
'I'm impressed, woman! But must have been a very long time past! All you ever seem to eat these days is soup. What was the hare like?'
'Vile! I had to marinade it for days and it stank and I had to thicken the sauce with blood - thought I was going to keel over! Then with every mouthful it seemed there was shot covered in fur...'
'Whatever you do, girly - go for something where you're not spitting out the half eaten contents of your mouth again! You remember what happened with the lamb gristle at The Wolsely - and just even don't imagine he will have forgotten...'
'Could he ever forget? I'm surprised he got back in touch!'
'Well, you're clearly on probation to see if you can match up to Miss Business Woman of America. This could be your last chance!'
'Bloomin' Norah - it's like a job interview!'
'It's more than that, darling - it's an interview for a whole new life!'
'But I like my life and I can't cope with this pressure...'
'Get a grip, girl! When you're Mrs Hank the Yank and rich beyond all imaginings, we can go off on plastic surgery holidays to Brazil...'
'The thing that really worries me,' I said, 'is that I hope he's not expecting to stay the night. Will he be driving?'
'He might have a Royce!'
'A what?'
'It's what those in the know call a Roller...'
'He could be coming by helicopter for all I know and want to know where my landing pad is! But if he's been drinking it might be difficult... I'll have to monitor his wine intake so he's fit to drive - or fly...'
'Then again he might have a driver!'
'Yes he might, but all I know is it'll be really awkward if he is expecting to stay the night so he can wander around Brighton on Sunday. I don't have the sort of spare room that might be up to muster. And he can't stay in my room: the boys might be here and - so far - we haven't even kissed. And they haven't even met him.'
'Well, of course he doesn't stay the night - that's what all night taxis are for if the worse comes to the worse,' said Ewan. 'But you have got a point with the boys. Will they be coming in to do a third supper of fry-up as usual? Just while you're settling down to your roast suckling pig and Queen of Puddings?'
'That's the other awful thing about cooking for someone at home you don't know very well - all that heat and heaving things in and out of the oven or off the hob and there's you getting red faced...'
'And the toe curling embarrassment of doing the stuff like lighting romantic candles,' Ewan agreed.
'The best way has got to be when you know each other well enough to share a pot of pasta in bed a la Nigella or whatever it was she did...'
Then a text came through. It was from Hank. 'So sos. Got 2 go back 2 US. Will take u out to make up - later! x'
'Oh thank God!' said Ewan. 'You're off the hook!'
'What a great piece of luck!' I agreed.
