Once upon a time we invited one of the directors of the firm which was still in its diapers. The firm FOS (father of son) had joined in its infancy. The director’s wife, aptly named Diana, didn’t like me. Which I think is the reason she did not inform me, as courtesy expects, that her husband was vegetarian.
In those days there were few vegetarians. And a big man was assumed to eat a lot. Not least meat. So I made a big casserole (Boeuf Bourguignon). I died a thousand deaths on delivery. Ever since I have not trusted women with husbands. Not that he wasn’t gracious about it. He was. Very very very sweet. If I hadn’t been married already I’d have rescued him from Diana.
PS It’s still Monday morning. Or so I hope.