I had my first real taste of the ‘ladies who lunch’ experience. I have never thought that I quite fit into the category because I don’t really consider myself a ‘lady’. I still feel young at heart and like I’m still in my twenties (even though this was a year ago), I laugh obscenely loud in public and sometimes rest my elbows on the table – not very lady like.
My aunty had emailed an invitation to various ladies who could lunch and celebrate her 60th birthday. When I turned up to the restaurant and pinned my name badge to my dress, I found two long tables set up ready for our lunchtime soiree with ladies who have known me since I had extracted myself from my mother’s womb.
The bubbles flowed, the sun poured in and the ‘ladies’ chit chat was reminiscent of farmyard feeding time of our feathered friends, the hens. Chortle, chortle. Cackle, cackle.
The other restaurant patrons may not have envisioned their lunchtime to be immersed in such festivities, but it was hard not to smile and enjoy the ‘ladies’ catching up.
The oldest lady there was by far the most loudest and tipsiest. Myself being the youngest, was one of the few not imbibing and my aunty looked like she was celebrating in style with a large cocktail glass in hand. She does not look like she is anywhere near her new milestone age, but a sexy-genarian…. and not the mutton-dressed-as-lamb-type.
What could’ve been an hour long meal turned into a four hour fiesta. These ladies really knew how to lunch and drink. So I have taken a leaf out of their books and learnt that a little bit of vino, sunshine and good company makes for a great lunchtime party. Cackle, cackle.