Mixing with the upper class

As I've indicated before I consider myself to have a working class background (even if I never actually did live in a cardboard box in the middle of a road), but my university education has catapulted me into reluctant touch with the upper crust.

Take today, for example. It was the occasion of the annual meeting of the Friends of the Vasa, beginning with dinner. I was a bit late from work so when I arrived everybody else was already sitting and eating. It seemed the only seat left was at a smaller table with some people so I just sat down there and tore into the food. While eating I listened to the conversation around me and realised with increasing embarrassment that I had just plopped down next to the society's chairman, Admiral So-and-so, and the rest around the table were his relatives; they'd wave at passing millionaires and discuss how difficult it was to get in touch with their friends now that they were ministers. But the peak of embarrassment came when one of the ladies recognised me and realised I was the father of her best friend's grandchildren—I was family too and greeted into the fold!

How will I ever live this down?

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