the night is yet young

Despite being directed to the restaurant by Woz, who by his own admission has no sense of direction, we got there in good time.

The restaurant was charmingly disheveled. If you know what I look like most of the time, you’ll understand why I was drawn to the place. The atmosphere was great, and almost immediately we were served with Kingfisher and more food than we had any right to expect. In fact it was more food than the table could hold.  Which I guess is a bit ace.

Loads of people came to eat in, more to take away. Including the now legendary “blonde with mittens”. Obviously, there are three totally different stories from the three chaps who were sat at our table, but she definitely, without question, smiled at me and said (in a voice that made hearts melt), “Hej”.

At that moment, wars ended, the world became bright and a choir of angels sang “Hallelujah”.

We ate our meals in a new world, us three men, and then wandered back to the hotel, ensuring that Prigg had paid the bill. For a change. Following on from last night’s escapade where I managed to kick off the evening by charging a round of drinks to the wrong room and was then positively encouraged by the bar staff to abuse the tab Woz had – foolishly – set up on his room, probably should have been my turn. But, well, heh.

However I am now overfull and overtired. My bed at home is calling, but I have 24 hours before I can kip there again. I will make do with another night’s unrefreshing sleep in this single bed before schlepping back to the UK tomorrow afternoon. The flight arrives at just-about-rush-hour at DHeathrow. I get the feeling we’ll be on the M25 longer than we are on the plane.

I have some pics to upload at some point and some discussion on this-and-that, but it can wait til I’ve got home and done some laundry!

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