Running from the scene of the crime

The incident occurred in 1973, when, aged 14, I got a part-time job as a junior commis waiter during the Christmas holidays at The Seamill Hydro Hotel in Scotland.

A pre-Christmas party for about 200 guests was taking place and my duties were fairly simple: clear away the empty plates from the first course, serve the vegetables with the main course, and help serve the desserts.

"No problem," I thought. Having successfully completed the first part of the operation, next came the vegetables. This meant silver-serving dishes of cauliflower au gratin and garden peas.

Having never performed this operation before, it was with some trepidation that I approached the first unsuspecting guest. As you can guess, by the time I had reached the final guest on the table, there were more bits of cauliflower and peas on the table-cloth, carpet and the unfortunate diners' laps than there were on their plates.

For pudding, there was a choice of Christmas pudding with cream, or Mela-Menthe, a ball of mint flavoured ice-cream, coated in a thin, crisp chocolate shell. I was left to serve the Mela-Menthe.

Only three people decided that they preferred my offering. The first two caused no problem. Trouble came with the third guest - a woman of ample proportions. As the chilly ice slid off the plate, the dessert shot out of the coupe, did a double reverse somersault and came to rest neatly in the woman's cleavage

I didn't wait to resolve the situation. I just fled. The restaurant manager finally tracked me down in the staff changing room, where he proceeded to reduce me to a lump of quivering jelly.