Actually, this post should more be more aptly entitled "Why OH* will never be invited to join Kevin."
Or even better, "How many times can you eat pasta in one week without exploding from carb overload?"
So the Kevinettes reconvened again. Almost a full house with the hungry mob turning up chez LCM in quick succession and devouring every edible appetiser within arm's reach. An awesome sight, six hungry women hovering over crisps, carrot batons, dips and wasabi peas. We know how to live it up, we do.
Anyway, in the lead up to the regular get-together, I not only sent a calendar note to OH to remind him of the date (Tuesday) so he could not claim, as is his wont, that I "never told him", I also notified him (four times) that I would be serving pasta and salad to my learned lady book club friends.
On Monday, OH cooked dinner.
Pasta and salad.
The Kevinettes came - and ate (pasta and salad) and drank - and discussed the book, and dispersed until the next meeting.
And OH cooked dinner again on Friday.
Pasta (no salad, must have been a memory lapse somewhere).
"Three times in one week?" I queried, when sitting down to dinner.
"Italians eat pasta every night!" he countered.
"We are not in Italy," I replied. "And you are Welsh."
Although considering the alternative - given his Celtic roots - it could have been worse.
Potatoes. Every night.
Oh, hang on. That's what is usually on the menu.
* That's OH as in Other Half. Not as 'OH!' in surprise. Although the two do often go hand in hand.