Beef Party

Last night I attended a Royal Navy beef party. It was really called, "Trafalgar Night" and was a dinner to commemorate a famous battle against the french and Sir Nelson Somebody or Other. 

It will always go down in history to me as "The Beef Party"  though.

The Beef party was a fancy dress event which meant women had to wear dresses below their knees and navy personnel were in white uniform. The evening consisted of all you can drink  and a full, sit down dinner which lasted about three to three and one half hours. Forty five minutes of those three hours consisted of speeches.

After we bullshat and drank champagne (or orange juice if you were like me and were not drinking)(oh wait, i was the only person not drinking) we were ushered down to the "mess". All of the ladies made a mad dash for the bathroom since you were not allowed to get up during the meal for any reason whatsoever.  This was an extremely difficult concept for me to swallow.

Anyway, down in the mess there where four, long tables  set up. One was horizontally positioned where all of the VIP's sat and faced the rest of us peons. The remaining three tables came out of the VIP table vertically and were parallel to each other. Almost like a big E shape, yet the three tables were bigger than the backbone of the E, if that makes any sense.

Each table seated people on either side and theoretically you were supposed ot be seated with people you worked with, except for us. To our left were two very young officers from Scotland doning very stylish kilts. In front of us was a couple. The female in the couple, obviously a civilian like myself, was taking full advantage of the all you can drink and was drunk before the beef arrived. And to my right was a very nice couple only one month from delivering their second baby. In total, one hundred and eighty people.

anyway, after we had our starter (also known as "appetizer" to us Americans), four very young people entered the room carrying a big piece of beef on their shoulders. they supported the beef on a huge tray and carried it together. 

As they entered the room fell silent. In front of the "beef party" was a very serious woman walking very stiff, much like the nutrcracker. After she painfully marched up to the VIP table she shouted very sternly, "Permission granted for beef party to serve sir?"

That's when I about lost it. BEEF PARTY???? I've had beef, and i've been to many parties, but never in my 33 years have I EVER heard of a BEEF PARTY.

Thankfully, the commander granted permission to the beef party to serve beef and they marched out like 5 stiff nutcrackers from Tchaikovsky's Nutcracker.

Five minutes later identical looking waiters and waitresses scurried around the room strategically placing plates of beef (what else?) in front of us. Than we had to wait for them to individually serve us our veg (otherwise known as vegetables to Americans) AND THAN the gravy.

AT this point it's 8:15, almost 8:30 and I'm about to eat my hand. How long does a pregnant lady have to wait to eat around here??

Of course we had to wait until all 180 people were served their beef, their veg and their gravy before we could eat.

The beef smelled delicious. I could hardly wait. 

Until the gravy was served. As soon as i put the gravy spoon back in the gravy boat a yeast-like odor hit me like a ton of bricks. This of course made my stomach churn. 

"It smells like yeast" I said to my husband.

"Yeah" he replied, as if to say "duh". "It's marmite gravy".

"WHAT?" I yelled, while simultaneously gagging. "Who the hell puts marmite in gravy?"

For those of you who don't know what marmite is, consider yourselves lucky. But I'll tell you anwyay; it's a spread that is made out of yeast extract and you either love it or hate it. If you have ever smelled yeast you know the stench I am speaking of here.

Logically, I CAN'T STAND IT.

"When in Rome" I thought to myself and scarfed down my beef, considering implementing my nine year old daughters method of holding my nose in order to avoid tasting anything yeast-like.

Before we started eating  the chaplain of course stood up and said a prayer that went something like this: 

"God Save the Queen, something something Amen."

Very touching. NOT.

I've done a lot of prayin' in my day but that was the first time I ever prayed for a queen. 

In the end I did decide not to hold my nose and tasted marmite in every. single. chew.

After I mopped the plate clean the reality of the crime i had committed hit me and my stomach started churning again.

I washed down my marmite beef with two desserts and felt a lot better though. (I made my husband give me his)

After the dessert, and the port, and the coffee, and the speeches (yawn) the night ended with songs that contained lyrics such as, "What will we do with a drunken sailor?" and "Jolly tars are our men" and my personal favorite,

 "Rule, Britannia! Britannia Rule the waves: Britons never never never never never never never never never never will be slaves."

As these lyrics were belted out by all kinds of drunks around the room, many of them banged their fists on the tables, causing whatever remaining port in their glasses to fly onto their shirts. Or, onto their dresses. 

Rule Britannia!