Sunday 9:35 p.m.
To get to Kings Langley, near Watford, we had to ask for directions several times and everyone in Engerland seemed very nice. Try asking for directions in France and see how you get on. But I've never been sure about nice people. They're a bit two dimensional. It's a shame that soon we may break up the political union with these folk, but for some reason they have a propensity to vote Tory. Dearie me.
I don't like restaurants. I used to like restaurants, but that was when I had a few bob. Even then, I didn't like most restaurants. It's the servants. I hate servants, or any kind of servility. Inadequates such as the evil bourgeois like the servant angle because they can feel superior. I hate fawning and scraping. I hate all the manners in restaurants.
The restaurants in Yugoslavia before the shit hit the fan were great. Cooperatives. Plates full of meat and no servility.
If I was going to pick a restaurant, I'd pick a French restaurant. I think the froggies love food. The froggies know about food and care about it. What kind of moron would want to eat in a Mexican restaurant? What do the Mexicans know about food?
There is no more delicious food than home made bread toasted and buttered and covered in banana. There is nothing to equal it.
So we were in a Bangladeshi restaurant today. Toe curling embarrassments are what you get in restaurants run by folk from the sub continent. Anywhere that serves folk food that burns your mouth is ... anyway, nothing was too burny in this Bangladeshi restaurant; nothing that I had to eat anyway. Not that I wanted to eat it or even be there. Certainly not.
The Domestic Bliss ordered salmon something. What do the Bangladeshis know about salmon? Where are the salmon rivers in Bangladesh? She sent it back. Toe curling, cringeing ... I hate restaurants. I hate being in them. They are the haunts of the evil bourgeois and other disgusting people ... unless they're French of course. It was an award winning restaurant in a very old building with thick walls. Even the thick walls couldn't completely extinguish the sound of the screaming and shouting that took place in the kitchen after the salmon was sent back. I'd rather poke my eyes out than go to another Indian, or Bangladeshi ... no wonder they spit in the food. I'd spit in the fung food if I had to work in a bowing and scraping toadying hole like one of them.
Two of the photies are of English trees. One of a giant wasp sculpture in Watford and the other is of the spaceship of the Alien Creatures from Outer Space.
5 comments:
I don't eat out much. But for me food is always an issue.
Serving food is honest work and pays the bills. It isn't about class struggle, it is about providing something (most) folks want and paying your bills.
Trust me there are worse jobs to have.
Neat pics. Though your Alien space ship looks a bit like a kirk. But it could still be that.
Marie! I've worked as a waiter. There was a guy who worked the row of tables near me and he got far more tips than me, but he was a crawler. I don't think they took tips in Yugoslavia. If the waiters part-own the restaurant .... Anyway, the other waiter is now a millionaire and owns a football club, so what do I know? The Alien space ship is pretending to be the Scott Monument on Princes Street. I'm off with a rotten cold today. Boo! Hotboy
As a result of whatever addictions you've recently given up or taken up, there's much sense in this post. Viz., hot chilli is for folk with no taste. Restaurants would be bearable if there was no staff except the cook, and you just went into the kitchen and helped yourself. Good on the DB sending back the dud fish.
Albert? Is this all very much grumpy old man stuff. I'll stop if you promise to stop to. I'm surrounded by scary women. She only coughed up anything because I'm a wimp. Hotboy
I've already given up everything else. I'm hanging on to the grumpiness. Besides, somebody has to do it.
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