The bright green invitation landed on my desk.
My eager eyes lapped up the details of a champagne reception in the marquee of one of the UK’s finest country clubs.
I read aloud to my colleague the information regarding a certain famous television presenter, who would be providing questions and answers with the sports men, whilst a three course meal was served to the chosen guests.
We made suitable excited sounds when I mentioned the afternoon tea scheduled to be sampled on the patio.
And we couldn’t help feeling impressed when we discovered the sponsors of the event were respected British jewellers, Boodles, established in 1718.
We flicked through the contents of the glossy invitation, admiring the photographs of the magnificent 37 carat Burma sapphire, and the immaculate grounds hosting the occasion.
It was summer entertaining at its most exclusive!
Oh yes and there would also be tennis matches viewed from our hospitality box, watching tennis players whose names still escape me.
I’ll be honest, I’m not really a tennis fan.
I would even go as far as to say, I don’t particularly like watching tennis, or have even really bothered to learn the rules of the game.
I apologise if I have offended anyone who is passionate about game, set, and match. Excuse my ignorance of world champion’s names and ranking. The only player I can really recall is John McEnroe, the former no.1 world champion who was famous for his serves and quotes of, “You can not be serious, the ball was in!” I’m not even sure how many times he is supposed to have said this, but his quibbles with the umpire are the only thing I can really remember or find interesting about tennis.
And the mentioned actual day did not disappoint or fail to meet our high expectations.
The smoked salmon, beef Wellington, and lemon mousse were delicious.
The sun made a rare appearance after continuous, gloomy, wet, days in the UK.
The champagne and wine were generously flowing, but again I congratulated myself for being disciplined and not wishing to act like a fool in the presence of the mailing house who had invited my colleague and I to such a prestigious event. And I admit to feeling slightly shocked and amused by two strangers conversation in the portaloo, “All this wine has gone to my head!” one lady slurred to another whilst trying to apply lipstick in a neat fashion. “All this wine has gone to my legs!” said the other woman, trying desperately to walk in a straight line.
And I confess to gasping, and then giggling, when a question from table ten was presented to one of the famous tennis players, “What colour pants are you wearing?” Yes the wine and champagne were perhaps being enjoyed a little too much by various attendees.
Even the tennis matches weren’t too bad. I felt quite glamorous perched in our box, taking in the neat grass and the tall player smashing the ball with his racquet, thinking this must be rather like visiting centre court at Wimbledon.
I still can’t remember who the very tall famous tennis player was.
At least I’m consistent, dear readers. You can’t change a habit of a life time over night. You can’t really pretend to be impressed about tennis when you don’t really know anything regarding the sport. Or the players.
But tennis fan or not, the bright green invitation which landed on my desk, certainly surpassed all of its offerings.