I was out for dinner the other night at a friend’s place and after dessert I looked at my watch.

I had been there three hours and the food and the company was splendid but my departure was an hour overdue. I’m a bit like a parking meter … I have a two-hour limit.

There was some reluctance about our departure so, frustrated, I said : “Why am I always the one who decides it’s time to go?”

The answer may be self-evident. My host said something to the effect that I had a lower tolerance threshold for social intercourse – excuse the French.

It may have something to do with being teetotal. Everyone else was drinking wine or beer and that tends to extend social occasions which is one of the reasons I am opposed to drinking.

I wondered (aloud) what would happen if I didn’t decide that it was time to go home.

“Would we all still just be sitting here at 3am?” They ignored me and kept talking.

When I arrive somewhere I often quote Groucho Marx who once famously sang a song entitled Hello, I must be going. (It’s also the title of a film and an album by Phil Collins). I live by that motto.

No sooner have I arrived than I am ready to leave. Usually, I plan my departure even before arrival … setting a time and getting some excuses ready … I have work to do, I’ve not been feeling well, I have to wash my hair … stuff like that.

I’m amazed that hosts actually try to stop people from leaving.

There’s a wonderful and darkly humorous short story by Stephen Leacock about a young curate who is a house guest of someone who insists that he stay.

It’s called The Awful Fate of Melpomenus Jones. In this story the young fellow is too polite to leave and since the host insists, he must stay. In the end, not wanting to be rude, he finds the only way he can get out of the joint is to die. Now that’s a bit extreme but I take Leacock’s point.

Personally, when we have guests and people offer to leave, I’m up and at the door opening it for them.

My parting words are usually : “Thanks for coming … and thanks for going.”

There’s nothing worse than people who overstay their welcome.

So actually, by being constantly ready to leave I’m actually quite thoughtful.

It’s best to leave on a high, too,  rather than getting tipped out the door at some ungodly hour by disgruntled folks who are glad to see the back of you.

No, go out on a high, I reckon. Maybe, having just told a joke that makes everybody laugh, stand up and say … “thanks very much everyone you’ve been a wonderful audience” and out the door you go.

It’s the old showbiz dictum adhered to by George Costanza at the suggestion of Jerry in a very funny episode of Seinfeld. Jerry got the idea from Jerry Lewis but that’s another story.