I cannot be sure how many times Lauren’s grandfather took us out for dinner, always together with his wife and a number of others, who were often members of the sprawling family, but I remember quite distinctly that he would not miss one single opportunity on that handful of occasions to complain about the bill. He would study it for a long while and ask the stiff head-waiter questions about items that were suspicious to him while the rest of us would sit around the table with frozen smiles on our faces. On the way out of the restaurant, he would invariably make a comment about his surprise at the bill. “Not a cheap place, huh?” he would wink at us and chuckle amiably. The old bastard, one of the richest people on this planet, would always make sure that no-one in his party would enjoy his munificence to the end.