Lunch.

A couple of weeks ago, I got an email from a very good friend of mine. He was going to be visiting the area where I live and would like to take me to lunch. I was delighted! This man is a true gourmet. He likes posh gaffs (i.e. nice places). Preferably with Michelin stars.

And then he sent me a second email: could I possibly suggest somewhere suitable?

I was like the rabbit transfixed in headlights. Terrified and not a bloody clue. We don't eat out. And if we did there would be no Michelin stars involved. Be lucky to get china and cutlery.

How did this happen? Wouldn't you think that by my age I'd know stuff like this? Have some idea which way was up, where to go and what to wear when you go there?

Where the hell did I go wrong?

Anyway- he's a resourceful fellow. He sent a third email, politely never uttered a word about my silence and said he'd found a place that would fit the bill. It has a Michelin star. We meet tomorrow. Now all I have to do is show up and not drop food down the front of my dress.

I'll let you know how I get on.