In the post this morning arrived an invitation to a dinner and I began to get excited. My presence was requested at a Summer Dinner to launch an appeal. Then two things struck me about the invitation. I noticed that the dinner is next Saturday, so either they’ve been a bit slow getting the invites out or I was on the reserve list and not many of the original guests had accepted. I suspect the latter is the reason because the next thing I noticed is that the cost is £45 per head! Now I don’t know who the target group for this bash is but I’m not a Barclays dealer or director so I’m afraid I won’t be going.
The invite did remind me of a story Jesus told about a banquet. The great and the good had been invited but found lots of excuses not to attend. So the guest list was opened up to include the riffraff, though I don’t remember them being asked to stump up nearly a Nifty to get in. There was a sting in the tale, however, for one poor chap turned up in the wrong jacket and was promptly slung out. I’ve always identified with the unfortunate dinner guest as he seems to have been blessed with the same sartorial elegance as me. This is what I love about Jesus stories; there’s nearly always something slightly edgy or uncomfortable in there somewhere for those with ears to hear.
Knowing my luck, even if I’d accepted the invitation to the summer dinner and handed over the dosh I would have been refused entry. The dress code is ‘Lounge Suit’ and I don’t even know what one of those is, let alone possess one.
