*(Names changed to protect the innocent)

Pru Welling had flowing raven hair, pale skin and full red lips. She came from a small quite select village, so for a lad from a council estate was self evidently classy. I wanted to impress her very much.

This was the 70's and we were at an office do. A buffet and disco upstairs in the Black Ox in Swansby. The dance floor had been cleared of tables and chairs and a stereo set up to play records. One of the consequences of clearing the floor was that space was extremely limited between the thick, dark wooden tables and chairs. We managed to sit by pushing and shoving the heavy furniture to one side, in order to clear enough space. At 8 a long table covered in a white paper tablecloth was set up for the buffet and not wanting to drink too much without food I was one of the first to collect my cold repast.

The food consisted of, what in those days was standard buffet fare; mini-sausage rolls, quiche, beetroot, pork pies, cold chopped hot dog, pineapple and cheese on a stick, slices of ham, beef, turkey (it was near to Christmas), and in addition, exotically, seafood consisting of mussels and cockles. No Pizza or chicken nuggets in those days, I’m not even sure if coleslaw was available. I piled my paper plate with enough to soak up the night’s anticipated alcohol consumption and prepared to negotiate my way back to my seat.

In those days I wore the new fashion of dark blue velvet jacket. My black hair reaching to the collar of the jacket, dark blue 28” trousers flared from the hip and brown 4” high block heeled boots. I had an open necked, light blue Ben Sherman shirt and patterned woollen sleeveless jumper - all the rage. I lifted my leg tentatively, over a stool and looked for space to place my foot, to recover my balance. This action I repeated as I negotiated my way towards my seat with increasing difficultly the further into the plethora of stools and tables I progressed.

I had other difficulties; my heels. The boots were quite clunky and the heels were thick. My stability depended on the length of time the leading boot was suspended in the air and how far I had to stretch. I could topple at any moment.

I eventually got to my table where a bevy of beauties awaited, including the girl of my dreams. This was a particularly bad moment for my heel to wedge between the interlocking legs of a couple of stools. I had no doubt I was going to fall and could do only one thing. In front of me sat Margaret a nice quiet girl who had not been with the company long. She was shy but was always listening and laughing at my jokes. She may have had a fancy for me but I was too busy trying to impress Pru. I hardly had time to think. My choice became clear. The wall behind her was too far and if I fell forward I would fall on a table full of half empty glasses. She looked up and smiled affectionately at me. I thrust my hand out and used her forehead to push me back so I could recover my balance. Of course this jarred her head back but what else could I do? The expression of shock on her face lives with me to this day.

I somehow managed through my embarrassment to extricate my heel almost wrapping my legs around each other. Sniggering escalated to laughter in patches around me. Pru was laughing with her hand over her nose and I forced a smile through my embarrassment, to demonstrate how I saw the funny side to.

Margaret was being attended to by her friends and I expressed my concern, though I was given a withering sideways glance in disbelief from her special friend Jean. Who was an outsider invited by Margaret as company and couldn’t know what a caring person I really was.

I decided through the laughter to return to my plate of food and hope given time things would quieten down. I looked down and was horrified. My plate was empty. I looked around the table. My eye alighted on the segment of pie deposited in the ashtray. It was coated in grey and white cigarette ash and surrounded by cork tips, not something I cared to salvage.

More horror followed as others started to notice. The suppressed laughter turned to guffaws, my fixed smile set like quick setting concrete and my face turned puce. The table was full of glasses and bits of my buffet were either in or wedged between these. People were in tears and I wanted the earth to swallow me up. I had no idea what impression I had made on Pru but she was rocking back and forward, wiping her eyes.

People came back from collecting their buffet and offered me pieces of food from their plates, not always with the best of motives and this caused more hilarity.

Eventually things started to calm down.

Margaret was sufficiently recovered, to rejoin the company, though dazed she looked at me with mistrust in her eyes. Her friend encouraged her to have a sip of her drink and as she picked it up, facing me, I noticed through the golden liquid, a mussel deposited at the bottom of her glass. The glass was at her lips before I could stop her. I braced myself for the reaction to the dead mollusc as it rolled to her mouth.

“Oh my God…..” She screamed spraying her regurgitated drink over her attentive friend …. and Pru.

I needed to rescue the situation and thought a bit of light hearted banter was called for.

“What’s up? Don’t you like seafood/” I asked with a sycophantic smile.

Pru hardly spoke to me after that and eventually married a prematurely bald studious Clerical Officer from the Employment Exchange.

I console myself in the fact that it wouldn’t have worked out between us - she never had my sense of humour.