Boys

Last of the summer wine

I sat there expectantly.  The only woman among four men in blue suits and socks sitting in my living room chatting excitedly over mountains of wine, cheese and crackers.  I had thought I would be bored.  Imagining myself having to listen to the ups and downs of the market and whether Hollande really is as bad as he seems to be.  

I was wrong.  The topic that commanded most debate and discussion was actually fridges.  Should fridges have two doors, ice makers, be big enough to sleep in?  Most importantly should they be Miele (No, you pronounce it "Miule".  No! Mielee..) or liebherr. 

Then they all gleefully bundled into the kitchen to make steaks over the stovetop grill (yes, Le Creuset is definitely better than Ikea, says one.  But it's not quite clear if it beats Tefal, says another).

And later.  As as they sat there recovering, blissfully nursing their wine, polishing off the ice-cream and always making sure I was well topped up, sitting comfortably and wanted of nothing.  As I sat there I thought. For the first time in my life.  When we have kids, I wouldn't say no to boys.