All my troubles seemed to far a-weave
Now it looks as though they’re here to Steve
Oh I believe
Gah, this songwriting lark is a bloody sinch. Step away from the lawsuit Mister McCartney, the secret is out. You wrote a song where all the lines rhymed. The last time I did that, my Primary School teacher smacked me round the back of the knees with a ruler and said I couldn’t go out at play time.
Last night, being a Tuesday, is usually one of the evenings I pop in and see my forgetful Grandma. Bless her. However, yes indeed, last night there was a change to the scheduled programme and a bunch of us from work went out in to Colchester for drinks, then food, then more drinks. Except Kev ‘girled’ it.
Although it was a leaving do for two of our colleagues, Silke and Phil, it was good fun, and I got to meet yet more people I’ll never remember the names of. But I do know that I was sat next to Stu on one side and Phil, who paid for it all (but isn’t the Phil who’s leaving), on the other. Interestingly (if you like such things as this fact coming up next) Phil sounds almost exactly like Jeremy Hardy off the radio. He’s also on QI. Jeremy Hardy, that is, not Phil.
The night kicked off with drinks at the Ha!Ha! Bar (where I had my one pint of beer) and then moved to Prezzo’s in Culver Street. There I watched as gallons of wine was duly ordered, and so was my bottle of Diet Coke. Ha! These people with their wine – they don’t know they’re born (and actually by the end of the evening, most of them were nigh on dead). Some excellent food was served, and the wine proved too tempting not to have a small taste. The red was a rather smashing Sicillian Merlot with tones of raisin and Christmas (Oops, I appear to be up my own arse). Disappointingly the white turned out to be a totally dreary Chardonnay, though the nose was very honey. But then Chardonnary is totally over-rated.
In my opinion*.
I waded my way through water and more Diet Coke as well as a very tasty goats cheese and red onion tart followed by a mozzerella and pesto burger. It was good, but the pesto was not at the front of the taste sensation. Dessert (two esses like “pudding” has two dees) was the cheesecake. Now I consider myself a bit of a cheesecake expert, as previously discussed, Rob reckons he wants one off me for Christmas. So making cheesecake is something I can do. I understand the very soul of cheesecake: its essence weeps from my pores (Although don’t let that put you off eating it if ever I make you one).
This cheesecake was divine. Heavenly. Nigh-on-perfect. And the reason? It was made with marscapone. Oh yes. So creamy, yet oh-so-light. Beautiful. If you get to try one at a Prezzo, go for it.
After the meal was sorted, we headed on out to Edwards. Very loud, full of students and despite the cash-strapped crowds, rather pricey. Eye candy was at a premium and I spotted but three young ladies worthy of any attention. But like I said, I wasn’t drinking so I had no intention of going anywhere near them (and besides, their baby-sitters would have got cross).
Dropped off some folks to save them having to get a taxi, and headed home. Night done by 12:30.
Slept incredibly badly. Not only was my electric blanket on, but so was the heating for some strange reason. This meant I kept waking in puddles of my own sweat. Annoying once, but after the third time, downright disgusting.
*Opinions expressed in this Blog are correct. Your opinions are wrong. Get used to it.