Last night Guido and I were laying naked in bed. Regular readers will know this is not in any way an unusual occurrence.
Let’s just say there’s a certain order to life which must be followed. The sun goes around the moon. The ocean tide rolls out and then it comes back in again. Spaghetti is boiled in salted water. Then it’s got to be tossed into a seafood sauce and served with garlicky bread. Of course, over here it’s eaten by the two of us in bed. Like I say, it’s the natural order of the universe, so taking all our clothes off is obligatory.
The phone rang. I balanced my spoon momentarily onto Guido’s hairy thigh.
It was Gary. Ted had whisked him off to Paris for the weekend. They were in a suite at The Hotel Sans Regis and wanted room service.
“So what in the hell are you calling me for in Denmark Hill? Press 9,” I said.
“I figured you and Guido eat a lot in bed and then straight after you have sex,” he said, “I consider you experts in your field.”
Familiarity breeds contempt, I thought.
“So, Ted figured you’d know what might stir up some excitement, whilst simultaneously avoiding any effects of long term indigestion,” said Gary.
Worryingly, this discussion was going down the perfect sense route.
“Hmm, well ok,” I said, “and if I happened to be laying between 1000 thread Egyptian cotton sheets right now instead of our old knitted blanket – what are my options if feeling completely insatiable?” I asked.
I picked up my spoon. I played with my prawn. I thought about being in Paris drinking champagne and staring at a neo classically hand painted deluxe room ceiling.
“I was thinking about the parmigiana? It’s roasted in the chefs own tomato sauce, can be easily shared – but just guessing we could possibly stain the pillows,” said Gary.
“Hold on,” I said. I held the receiver to my chest. “Have we ever had sex which involved an aubergine?” I asked Guido.
He sucked a clam shell. He frowned.
“Are you talking to your Mother?” asked Guido.
“Ted wants to know,” I said.
He thought for a moment. I can always tell when he’s thinking because it takes all of his powers of concentration and he blinks a lot.
“Well, in that case, yeah we have, but tell Gary to proceed with extreme caution,” he said blinking.
I picked up the phone again.
“Personally Gary, I’d pass,” I said.
I really couldn’t remember an aubergine but I could definitely recall fond memories of a stuffed zucchini.
“How about the house Risotto Parmesan?” asked Gary. He sounded hungry and as if time was of the essence. I was guessing Ted was impatient to get the party started.
“Can be interesting, if a little filling,” I said and that was the Gods own truth.
I poked my calamari.
“They have oysters but it doesn’t say anything about Worcestershire Sauce,” said Gary.
“Well Casanova used to eat them for breakfast and we all know what he was capable of.”
Gary hung up. I picked up my spoon.
“Gary called us experts at eating in bed just before having sex,” I said.
“And justifiably so!” said Guido matter of factly.
That’s the thing about this blog. It’s become a public service.