Worth the effort for a spot of high living

IMAGINE my delight when I was invited for dinner at a Michelin star restaurant the other night.

Once again I turned my back on my proletariat principles, grabbed my beautiful friend and headed out through the mist and torrential rain in towering heels.

The only downer was that I was driving the Getz, which is not only a flimsy drive in stormy condition but also resembles a dustbin on the inside.

I apologised to my friend as she hopped in, dressed in leather and silk, and was forced to negotiate her way around clumps of mud, dog hair and mouldy sandwich boxes.

Mental note: Clean car (find someone to clean my car).

After a hellish drive, there was a terrible smell that was able to penetrate through the Hermes and Chanel, and an hour late we finally found the place and hopped out – I say hop, which is graceful, my gait was more of a stagger, which only worsened as we picked our way through a secret garden and teeny tiny cobbled path – thank God for disabled hand rails.

I tried not to look at the several upper-class diners who could see my performance of walking from A to B.

Anyway, our memories faded instantly as we were greeted by two devilishly handsome men (according to my beautiful friend - I already have my hands full) who greeted us with icy champagne and a blazing fire - #ilovemyjob.

My friend and I agreed to have the seven-course tasting menu without wine pairing (I was driving and my friend’s gorgeous son wakes at 4am) – much to the chagrin of front of house, who offered to give us a lift home on his way back to Bournemouth.

We were shown to our elegant table and given little stools for our bags, mine of course is a massive number so I declined and shoved it under the table so as not to cause a health and safety incident.

From then on course after course after course was presented to us. In fact we were still eating five hours later, savouring food that I would never in a million years be able to recreate or probably afford to buy.

Just after midnight we reclined by the fire eating petit fours and drinking coffee.

Mental note: Next time arrive at 5pm.

We left in the wee small hours; jumping back into the Getz, which to be honest is really letting me down, not only in terms of looks but also its personal hygiene.

I just prayed that no one saw it.

If you are a regular reader, you will know that I have somehow managed to rope in My Mother to clean my home.

Well, she is doing such a sterling job on my house perhaps she would extend her contract to incorporate the car as well?

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