Burn, baby, burn

Whilst in the UK, I met up with the Girls From Work for dinner and drinks - these are the girls that I worked with 20 years ago at the travel agency.

Both GFW1 and GFW2 are lovely. Both have families now and are working moms, but both manage to be very cool, very stylish and hilariously funny. We always have a great evening out, despite the fact that I generally lean back and listen as they talk at each other.

So, we went to a great place in Kenilworth for dinner. Kenilworth is a pretty little town in Warwickshire - complete with tumbly down castle. It is also home to GFW2's MacMansion. Truly, this house is e-nor-mous. But then, GFW2 has always been able to sniff out the money, ha ha.

Anyway, we're sat at dinner in this fancy restaurant and we're remembering the last time that we ate there as a threesome....

We arrived for dinner at the usual time. GFW1 had driven me - unusually, as I'm normally the driver - and she'd driven us in her fairly old 'mom-mobile', a Renault Mégane Scenic.

GFW2 arrived and we ordered and started to work our way through the fabulous food.

Sometime shortly after the starter plates had been cleared, the Maitre d' cleared his throat and asked, loudly, if anyone was driving a Renault Scenic. He had an edge of panic to his voice.

GFW1 put her hand in the air - yes, just like being at school - and said that it was her car.

"You may wish to follow me Madame", he said. "It seems that there is a problem with your car".

I went with GFW1, out to the car park at the back of the restaurant. We arrived just in time to see her car burst into flames. Literally. Bang. Flames. Lots of them.

Apparently, one of the kitchen staff had seen smoke coming from the engine and had alerted the Maitre d'. Alas, it was too late by the time we got out there.

Not only was the car on fire, but it was not doing the cars on either side of it any good. Alas, the flames were such that it was impossible to move those cars and all the other drivers could do was sit and watch as their cars went up in flames too. Oh, and they called their insurers.

The fire brigade took an age to arrive - as in many small towns in the UK, the brigade is a voluntary one and you need to wait for the firemen to finish their dinners, get out of the bath or get off the golf course before they tackle the blaze. In the meantime, the kitchen staff had tackled the blaze as best they could with the kitchen extinguishers.

As we sat back down for dinner, once the blaze had died down, GFW1 turned to me.

"Well, at least I'm no longer the designated driver" she said. And she promptly ordered a double gin and tonic.

I think she needed it. She definitely deserved it.