Consequently I m not over there till a quarter to 11, and not finished till 2 ish. By the time I get home i am wrecked. I get another tape copying. Sophie has now reached her first Christmas, is stumbling around drunkenly and delighting all around. 17 year old Sophie is getting pissed off with seeing her baby self on the screen every time she walks into the room however.
I start to watch the rugby, and wake up just as it ends, with Wales having trounced Italy, oblivious to my slumber. I miss most of Ireland beating Scotland, but have to sit through the turgid English again doing for les bleus in Paris.
We decide on a meal out. I'd originally wondered about the Hand of Flowers, but downgraded the idea, principally due to likely expense. Next thought about "Eat Thai", but it was gone 9:30 when we reached town, and the prices there dictate a full evening to be spent. So twas the traditional standy of a ruby which forced it's way to the fore though in a revolutionary twist we headed not for the Curry Centre, but for "Chutney", once the Shaheen.
Not much has changed there. The staff seem consciously young, friendly and informal. As for the decor, a fish tank the thickness of a brick wall has replaced a brick wall. I am always a bit sensitive about eating next to a tankload of tropical poisson. I always expect to glance to my right to see a giant stringy turd passing serenely by as I tuck into my main course. I am seldom dissapointed.
The meal is moderate, drier than I'd like. But I do wonder if after all these years I am starting finally to tire of curry, and if so, what the hell would I replace it with?
Heather likes the Sag Aloo, and waxes lyrical about the delights of spinach, of which of course there are none, unless you can find the stuff Popeye gets hold of.
I present my own spinach menu
Epinards a la poubelle
Preparation 2 mins
Take a large bag of spinach. Chop finely , and arrange on chopping board.
Scrape spinach gently into dustbin.
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