Bonzer Words!: End Up Agoraphobic
Heather Stone remembers a night out when she was the one drinking the wine.
What did he mean I'll end up agoraphobic if I never go anywhere? I do so go out. Out to the bus stop, shops, schools, bank, mum's taxi, errands, meetings, speech nights… Why? I'm forever going out.
My protests did not avail. He turned a deaf ear. 'Sorry, this is a compulsory function. Everybody who is anybody in the fishing industry will be there… NO. I WON'T take Elizabeth Taylor! You're my wife. Like it or lump it you're coming. You might as well resign yourself to the fact. And NO. You can't wear trousers!'
Ah well. Personally I thought I looked pretty good in a dim light. My borrowed dress came from a friend with extra, well… curves… in similar places, my shoes and handbag, in a past life, had sported a name-brand, and my earrings were certainly genuine antiques. Admittedly my watch came from the $2 shop but it was black and discreet.
My small daughters were very impressed but noticing the modesty of my jewellery, they eagerly donated a prized bangle which I placed on my wrist mentally resolving to remove it in the car.
The function didn't turn out to be all that frightening. As I responded to each introduction with a firm self-assured handshake, I did notice that none of the women wore trousers. I hoped my husband wasn't looking.
Soft candlelit tables kept my make-up from critical scrutiny and the food tasted excellent. Of course this may have been because there was so little of it; as well I had hours to digest each course before the next one arrived!
My only faux pas was during the meal when my husband nudged me and hissed: 'You don't eat your entrée with main course utensils you fool.' I surreptitiously wiped my cutlery clean on a bread roll. The entrée fork, when I located it, was so small it could have come from a doll's house. I needed my reading glasses to spear a prawn.
Following the speeches and mutual back-scratching, the highlight of the evening was the musical entertainment. The lead singer was an overly-ripe lady with penetrating vocal chords, a tired cabaret line of patter and big tits… which went over well with the shark fishermen. The loud noise fortunately kept the necessity for conversation to a minimum.
There were five couples at our table. At one point I noticed I was receiving snide looks from an immaculate woman discreetly flaunting about a ton of understated gold bullion. Worried I did a quick self-inventory. My stockings were still unladdered, make-up intact, correct knife and fork in correct hand… then the light dawned.
On my left wrist, reflecting the candlelight, my daughters' favourite glow-in-the-dark-fluorescent-plastic bangle sparkled and glittered. My spontaneous blush triggered off a hot flush!
I was amply revenged for this humiliation. 'No! You'll have to drive. I won't drive the car on the F3. I won't even open my eyes on the F3!' So, my poor long-suffering husband sat through that lengthy, elegant and ever so boring night surrounded by the best that Australian vineyards have to offer… and sipped his mineral water.
I drank wine, proudly wore my plastic bangle and took my lovely daughters home a doggy bag of after-dinner mints.
© Heather Stone
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Heather writes for Bonzer magazine. Please click on www.bonzer.org.au
