By 7:30 pm o'clock the dining room was almost full, as guests began to take their seats and put them on the chairs provided. The waiters began pouring the wine and everyone seemed to be in a party mood. The dining room was already warm because of its great cavity wall installation; no doubt the wine would raise the temperature a few more degrees.
I sat at the top table along side Colonel and Mrs Strapp and their son Jock. Also at the top table was the regional RMT (that's regional management team for those of you not familiar with the pseudonym), Miriam - for all her effort in getting this conference together - and a couple of far-eastern members; these Honkinese people are very friendly. The silver service was amazing, the plates must have weighed a fortune. And fresh fruit, huge mounds of it built into conical pyramid shapes.
At 8:00 pm, dinner was served. Jock didn't like the look of anything on the menu and asked if we could send out for a 12-inch bolognaise without pizza. His request fell on deft ears and he was told to stop talking with his mouth open and stop eating with his mouth full.
I'll not bore you with the details of the gala dinner menu as it's already been published on our ISMS website. Suffice to say, it was superb. The fish was delicious, it just rolled off the tip of my tongue. However, as always as large gatherings such as this, dinner was quite an eventful affair.
During the main course, a cry went up from table 7.
"Quick, he's choking, give him the Heinrich manoeuvre!"
"It's Heineken, you idiot!"
"Rubbish, he's been on wine all evening!"
The small talk around the tables was the usual mix of sport, politics, business and jokes. I asked Colonel Strapp about his recent appointment to the Board of that well known company, GLA. He said he had been sold down the drain. The Colonel said that although GLA was striking forth into the anals of history, the Directorship required him to invest heavily in the company in the hope that from egg-corns deformed oaks might grow.
He had told the managing director that he was barking up a dead horse, or at least up a blind alley. In addition, he told him that he wasn't keen on GLA's marketing strategy: "Buy now at this year's prices!". It just wasn't good enough, he said. The Colonel concluded his tyraid with the comment that he was generally easy over easy, like a boiled egg, he was going to fire a Bismark across them! Apparently the managing director had left the meeting with a face like the back end of a slapped cow.
I had a brief chat with Mrs Strapp while the Colonel went off to prepare for his after dinner speech. She told me how she had left the nest before she could walk and of her adventures in Africa. Some of her stories made my blood curl; at one point I would swear I turned pitch white. She also told me that she had recently had chronic irrigation. I quickly changed the subject; I wouldn't have wanted to get into that in a million dollars. Anyhow her breath was being to smell - I think she had mixematosis.
As the idle banter went on, more and more courses arrived and empty dishes were taken away. Eventually, as the coffee was being served, the toastmaster called the room to order. It was time for the Colonel's after dinner speech.
