There are three types of animal on this plate; wildebeest, springbok and ostrich. And as we chomped our way through the bits of dead animal, we all reminisced about Bobby's last 30 years on planet earth.
Thanks to my mother's strange passion for scrap-booking and my dad's scanner, I am able to share these years with you.
My dad was in the Air Force and loved racing his cars, so you can imagine his massive excitement when my mother realised in 1977 that she was going to have a boy.
It would be someone for my dad to pass on his love of flying jets and racing cars. One-day Daddy's lovely son would be clever and successful, inherit Daddy's business, settle down and marry with kids.
The problem with poor Bobby was that Mummy kept playing bloody ABBA records and let him put the wrong sort of clothes into the dressing up box.
However, Bobby's father would say "no, Bobby wants to be a motorbike racer, see how happy he looks on it!"
They think my sister and I had a completely normal and happy childhood. I have managed to work out most of my shit on my own but my sister has had to have help from psychologists.
So when I'm out for dinner with my parents and we're celebrating my 30th birthday, they say things like "you had a very happy childhood didn't you?" I am past the stage of going "are you joking?!" Or "do you have any idea of the shit you put me and my sister through..."
The problem with my mum and dad is that they were expecting a boy and a girl who would grow up to become "normal", just like them.
They expected their son to take over his dad's business, get married and have kids. They wanted their daughter to be married early too and give them more young children to dote on.
It became clear that this wasn't going to happen but they refused to believe it. Instead they would say things like "as long as we're alive, you two will do as we tell you." That was their mantra, I can still hear them saying it.
Boys did not listen to Madonna or want to perform on stage, instead they went to karate as I was forced to do. Girls were not supposed to like computer games or get caught smoking in their school uniform.
Last night, while at the table, my sister phoned from California and I spoke to her and for a moment we were playing happy families. And we raised our glasses and my mother said "Bobby, we're very proud of you" and instead of what I thought, out of my mouth came the word "thanks."
For pudding my mother said "Bobby, please order the ice-cream so that dad and I can have some of it". But in spite of them I ordered the chocolate mousse, described on the menu as flamboyant.
"Oh", I said to the waitress, "and they will have plain old ice-cream but please could you bring two spoons with it, so they can share it."
At least they got their ice-cream but it was just not how they were expecting it.