Living on a nine by five island brings new considerations for Alf. More accurately, I wish Alf would acknowledge that living on a nine by five island brings a new culture which he SHOULD take into consideration. Namely, it is small.
Out for a drive, Alf has an encounter with another driver and indulges in some minor road rage. I warn him that he will undoubtedly find himself sitting next to that ragee at some function or another in the coming weeks. I am not given the impression that he is overly concerned.
We have had a live-in Alf for seven months when I think that it might be nice for me and my husband to host a dinner party with several other couples. To date Alf has been a part of every gathering. At home, out on the town, Art Society dinners, the invitations have even been extended as far as gatherings hosted by my ex-husband’s family, who I am lucky enough to still call my own. On this occasion, I stop to contemplate the question “Is it acceptable to have a dinner party at home to which Alf in not welcome”? There are several work connections among the other three couples on the guest list, although they also sit very comfortably in the friend category. New friends and old, I am keen for e everyone to get to know each other. Would I relax as the evening unfolds with Alf there or would my vital AAA stats by peeking to dangerous heights? I am in a quandary but in the end I decide it will not do to ban him. In conversation with my husband however, Alf decides that he will take himself off to the movie on that night. Rather sweetly he lets me know that he wants us to be able to carry on with life as usual.
We decide on a Moroccan theme and go all out to set an inviting scene, including hanging tapestries from the dining room ceiling. On the day, as always, Alf is helpful in the kitchen. He becomes rather an expert at taking the pits out of the dates to go in the tagine. He tells me he intends on slipping straight off to bed on his return from the cinema in the evening. I tell him he should come in and say hello to everyone and perhaps have a drink first. I swallow dryly and put the kettle on. We carry on cooking together.
Alf leaves for the cinema before everyone arrives. The evening is fun, right from the. beginning. Everyone is relaxed, our friends mix easily and are all on good form. I was enjoying the evening so much myself that I declare it to be the first of what we will look back on as our Moroccan phase.
Alf makes his entrance after dessert to a jovial household. He is already chuckling as he makes his way down the hall toward us. He is welcomed like an old friend, even by those who have only every read about him. He senses the fun we are having and by the look on his face, he thinks he can at least double it.
Oh yes, thinks Alf!
Oh fuck, think I.
Living with Alf 