Bank holiday weekend
We had a pretty good weekend at Steve Frost's place. Hillary has given his place "the female touch" with pretty little things hanging on the walls and flowers and plants all over the place. Luckily for him, she actually enjoys cleaning up the place, so everything was in its proper place. Unlike Anita who refuses to pick up after me so that I "learn my lesson". I'm hoping I can manipulate Ani into cleaning up after me forever without complaining.
This weekend was a miracle. I actually didn't get drunk after hanging out with Steve. He normally drinks really fast. I sometimes wonder if he actually drinks his lager or if he throws it down his neck. Normally he finishes his pint really fast and wants to order another one. However I'd still be barely half way down my pint. He'll keep putting pressure on me to finish my pint that I go through the whole night tossing back drinks at break neck speed. This would eventually get me rat arsed way too early. The last time we went to Lincoln, we were tossing back whiskey and beer alternately. That was a sure recipe to get shit faced. We then tottered to a Chinese buffet for dinner. No sooner had I wolfed down most of my ding ding wings and beef in black bean sauce and peppered spare ribs, I rushed to the toilet to throw up. I spent the whole night puking and refilling my tummy with food.
This weekend, Steve cooked for us. I mean, he actually cooked. He made a Lamb Rogan Josh. And he actually garnished the plates with little coriander leaves and crushed nuts which gave it the professional look. He didn't allow us to come into the kitchen to see what he was doing. Not that I tried too hard, I'm a lazy git. We had a quite a few drinks, but at a steady leisurely pace and thoroughly enjoyed the evening.
We were driving back the next day and Ani and I were so engrossed in our conversation as well as singing along to the radio everytime they played Tony Christie's "This is the Way To Amarillo", that we completely missed our exit on motorway. It was only after 19 further exits that we realized that we had completely overshot our turn off. We then had to cut across from Scotch Corner through the winding roads in the Yorkshire Dales to hit the M6 at around Penrith, 5 bloody junctions NORTH of Lancaster. But no complaints. The journey was breathtakingly beautiful. I've been in England for 2 years now and the countryside still holds me spellbound. Everything looks so tidy and well kept. The lush green rolling fields with sheep and lambs dotting the fields like fresh snow. I'm yet to see the wild side of England. Wherever I've gone, everything seems to have that human touch to it and looks like its cared for. No matter where you go, you'll have little paths to walk, public dustbins, signs telling you where you are and anything else that tourists need. As long as we're in England, Ani and I have decided to go to every corner of the UK and turn every rock and explore its beauties completely before starting to travel to Europe.
This weekend was a miracle. I actually didn't get drunk after hanging out with Steve. He normally drinks really fast. I sometimes wonder if he actually drinks his lager or if he throws it down his neck. Normally he finishes his pint really fast and wants to order another one. However I'd still be barely half way down my pint. He'll keep putting pressure on me to finish my pint that I go through the whole night tossing back drinks at break neck speed. This would eventually get me rat arsed way too early. The last time we went to Lincoln, we were tossing back whiskey and beer alternately. That was a sure recipe to get shit faced. We then tottered to a Chinese buffet for dinner. No sooner had I wolfed down most of my ding ding wings and beef in black bean sauce and peppered spare ribs, I rushed to the toilet to throw up. I spent the whole night puking and refilling my tummy with food.
This weekend, Steve cooked for us. I mean, he actually cooked. He made a Lamb Rogan Josh. And he actually garnished the plates with little coriander leaves and crushed nuts which gave it the professional look. He didn't allow us to come into the kitchen to see what he was doing. Not that I tried too hard, I'm a lazy git. We had a quite a few drinks, but at a steady leisurely pace and thoroughly enjoyed the evening.
We were driving back the next day and Ani and I were so engrossed in our conversation as well as singing along to the radio everytime they played Tony Christie's "This is the Way To Amarillo", that we completely missed our exit on motorway. It was only after 19 further exits that we realized that we had completely overshot our turn off. We then had to cut across from Scotch Corner through the winding roads in the Yorkshire Dales to hit the M6 at around Penrith, 5 bloody junctions NORTH of Lancaster. But no complaints. The journey was breathtakingly beautiful. I've been in England for 2 years now and the countryside still holds me spellbound. Everything looks so tidy and well kept. The lush green rolling fields with sheep and lambs dotting the fields like fresh snow. I'm yet to see the wild side of England. Wherever I've gone, everything seems to have that human touch to it and looks like its cared for. No matter where you go, you'll have little paths to walk, public dustbins, signs telling you where you are and anything else that tourists need. As long as we're in England, Ani and I have decided to go to every corner of the UK and turn every rock and explore its beauties completely before starting to travel to Europe.
posted by TinTin @ 9:49 am
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home