Dinner Party Hell
Friday fridge, angst shopping lists
Deadlines drawn, must not be missed
Tesco treats, teased from tomes
Of Nigella's books cloned from Sloanes.
Normal needs meld with new
Tasks drawn up. Stocks steamed for stew.
Then all locked down, half day's chore.
Yet morning's light will yield much more.
Clean the house and dust the cat
And make things shine and do things that
The men don't see, but girl guests do,
The flowered hall, the downstairs loo.
Then war breaks out, the battle line
Of pans and mixers, plans define.
The chaos mix of stripped out packs
Spilled or lost, order lacks.
But hours spent in hot held heat
As timers chime the rushed off feet
Yields a calm from entropy.
Creations dished for all to see.
Then smiles. "Darling! Welcome please"
Spic-span house with hostess cheese.
"No it was nothing, do sit down"
All pleasantries through hidden frown.
Modal change, waitress skills
Handle dishes with all the frills.
Yet maintain a steady stream
Of idle chat, ideal hostess seem.
"The children? Oh, they've done that well?
Your house? It's worth? Oh please do tell! "
When deep deep down you pray for luck
To tell them you don't give a #.
Eleven strikes, dessert's all gone.
At last you're free to wine and song
To talk at will, break hostess bond.
But no "It's late, we must be gone"
Just left the choice to clear up now
Or wait for morn and brave a row?
Either way, you've done your most
And know your precious Sunday's toast.
Polemic Paine - June 7th