Sam is one of my closest friends and in the long years I have known him he hasn't even made me so much as toast - I love him nonetheless, he sings me songs and makes me mix tapes instead so we're good.
Duncan is a funny man, (literally - he's a comedian) a super chum and is breaking the mould by insisting on cooking for me even though I have just invited myself round to his house and made him pick me up from the other side of Bristol in rush hour.
I eagerly stood in the kitchen to the sound of the Pretenders playing loudly from the dining room record player. I offered to wash the courgettes. Big mistake. I have never seen such an expression. He looked at me in such a way... I honestly thought that he had somehow telepathically received the news that a close friend had come to some hideous end or that he was having a kind of internal fit. After an unhealthy pause he just said through gritted teeth " I was going to cook for you".
I apologised for the faux pas - I only wanted to show willing and offer assistance, I did the only decent thing and ran upstairs to collect the book I was reading (21 stories by Graham Greene) and curled up in the dining room. He wasn't really cross but I thought it best to keep a low profile for a bit. When the Pretenders finished I put on Supertramp, and Duncan served up a perfect plate of risotto.