A Funny Old Day

Well, despite saying yesterday that I wouldn’t be doing any entertaining for a while, I had a few friends over last night for ‘dinner’. It would be slightly disingenuous to call it dinner as such, because what I had prepared was that old 1970s favourite – the fondue. I’d never actually cooked one before although I’ve eaten them many times, both at student dinner parties and in the Alps whilst skiing (well, not exactly whilst skiing, but you get the drift). Fondues always make me think of Mike Leigh’s Abigail’s Party for some reason. I don’t think there was actually one featured in the play (I can’t remember), but I’m sure it’s exactly the sort of thing the character of Beverly would have aspired to.

Anyway, we had fun and made a hell of a mess. The instructions said “White wine is a good accompaniment to fondue, but don’t serve it too chilled or it could solidify the cheese in your stomach and cause pain”. How very odd. We couldn’t risk that, so we drank red wine instead. Lots of it.

I had a bizarre dream last night (might it have been the cheese?). I dreamt that Robert Mugabe and his wife (does he have one?) visited me in my kitchen and implored me to believe that the election in Zimbabwe wasn’t yet over and that there was still time to vote for him. He seemed rather pathetic and pleading, and seemed to be suggesting that I alone held his future in my hands. What a different picture the reality must be – who knows what scheming and Machiavellian treachery is going on behind the oak-panelled doors of Harare as I write? I wonder why the lure of power is so strong – surely by now he must have spirited away sufficient millions to a Swiss bank account to allow him to slip away unnoticed to a happy retirement? Presumably, ruining your own economy and butchering thousands of your own people is more fun than wearing cardigans, sucking on a Werther’s Original, and perhaps attending the odd fondue party in the Alps?

I’m a bit disappointed that no-one has played an April Fool’s joke on me yet. There’s still time, of course. Perhaps that’s what Mugabe is planning – in an hour or so he’ll announce his defeat and invite Morgan Tsvangirai to form a government. Then, just as Morgan is climbing the steps to the presidential chair, Mugabe will jump out from behind the arrass crying “April Fool!”. Now, wouldn’t that be completely refreshing?

Today from Horace: "A host is like a general: calamities often reveal his genius."