Solving the world’s problems over dinner

It has admittedly taken me a very long time to discover this, but going out for a nice meal does seem to be an excellent time to discuss all sorts of important stuff in an informal setting. With alcohol.

I should point out that this probably wouldn’t work out well for those dining alone, and you may need to temper what you talk about, depending on your dining companion.

For example, discussing how good you new partner is in bed when having lunch with your prospective mother-in-law is almost certainly not going to get you much past the bread and artistically sculpted pats of butter. It may be a handy opening gambit if you’re interested in sampling hospital food, though.

A scrumptious meal out with Mrs G, at a posh (by our standards – we consider Tesco’s “Finest” range pretty exotic) restaurant on holiday recently resulted in some interesting topics being covered, aided by a nice drop of wine and further enhanced by some additional dessert wine too. Is there a starters wine? Asking for a friend, honest.

Impending DIY was first up, with “Elephant’s Breath” as the paint colour of choice for our hallway being under scrutiny. It was probably the plonk, but I did start wondering what an elephant’s breath actually smelt of, before an in-depth analysis of men’s inability to distinguish varying subtle shades ensued, which went something like: Taupe? Brown. Tan? Brown. Fushia? Pink. Soft Rose? Pink. Elephant’s breath? Er... bananas?

The suggestion of a Ghostbusters poster to brighten the (possibly) grey hallway was briskly dismissed, and even my compromise plan of a roller system of interchangeable prints (based on the old hand-towel system you used to get in public loos) failed long before the streak of coloured stuff on the dessert plate was partially identified. I thought a Matisse print, achingly cool indie band, and picture of a kitten were good choices for different audiences, but seemingly not.

Somewhat randomly, children’s names were discussed, but Tarquil Finnegan Grenville and Gemma Emma Grenville will have to live with some other, duller, names. Or none at all, as they don’t exist.

Large cut-out letters (for you to decorate and substantially improve the accessorising of your home in one alphabetically-minded flourish) were next up, having been spotted in a gift shop nearby. Mrs G’s cunning plan to paint her letter a nice colour efficiently made my idea seem a bit Primary School Arts & Crafts-y. I still think covering it in pictures of Sheena Easton, F1 cars, cake and cappuccinos sounded pretty cool, but it was confirmed that I’m not 7 years old, unless you ignore the digit that normally comes in front.

Finally, whilst pondering coffee, we spoke at length of my love for the holiday cottage shower. So powerful was it’s steamy spray, that it took considerable effort to get back to the tap to turn it off.

And there we have it – important topics analysed and problems solved. Try it yourself.

Bill, please!

This post first appeared as my "Thank grumpy it's Friday" column, in the North West Evening Mail, on the 8th of May 2015. You can read the edited version published by the paper on their website here

There were a few minor trims, but the 10% reduction in words in their version omitted the whole of paragraph three, which you've got above, because I love and respect you and I like that top you're wearing today, unless you're reading this topless in which case I suspect you've come to the wrong place.

These were genuine conversations, by the way. Wine does that to me, although I do normally talk this sort of bollocks all the time... I just try hard not to do so in public.

This column was the 155th to be published by the paper and also marks the 3rd anniversary of my elevation from random blogging-type-person to random-columnist-thing. Amazing, isn't it? Stats-wise, this blog also had it's best month for a year, with over 1800 visits. Whoever you are (and a large amount of you are in the USA) thank you.

It does feel a bit like being inside a house at night with the lights on, knowing that hundreds of people are silently looking in, but you can't see them, but hey - if all online stalking was like this, the world would be a less scary place. Put that axe down.

(More CD singles! Currently listening to Marillion's "Sympathy" from '92.)

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