If this post does not make sense, I can only apologize and lay the blame on drink. The usually stone-cold sober Madsadgirl has been out for a meal at the local Italian restaurant tonight and in honour of the occasion decided to treat herself to a half-bottle of Valpolicella.
Going out to a local restaurant for a meal was something that my husband and I used to do most weeks. When we were both in the RAF and he was serving at a base on Salisbury Plain we used to go out every Friday evening when he got home for the weekend. In those days we used to go to an Indian restaurant in a nearby town where they would always find a table for us, no matter how busy they were. We were regulars, known by name, and they valued their regular customers.
When my husband died, I found it a bit awkward going into a restaurant on my own, but eventually I started going to an Italian restaurant on a regular basis and it became first names there too. I would always go there for a meal on the day that I did my OU exam and used it as an opportunity to celebrate the end of another module. But having an alcoholic drink with my meal was not possible because of having to drive home afterwards.
Since having moved back to London, regular restaurant going has not been on the agenda. This is partly because I don't have the money to spend on it that I did when I was working, but perhaps surprisingly more because there aren't so many good restaurants to choose from. I could go up to the centre of London and have more of a choice, but that would mean having to get a bus there and back, and the prices in those restaurants would probably be like spending a month's food money on a single meal and that is just not an acceptable position.
However, there is a more than passable Italian restaurant just a 5-minute walk from home and that is where I have been tonight. I feel bloated from having eaten 3 courses, something that I would never dream of doing when cooking for myself, and a little bit tipsy from drinking the wine. It will probably be months before I do this again, but for now I am going to enjoy the sensation of fullness and the slight fuzziness in my head and watch a little bit of television before going to bed.
I don't think that I should have any problems sleeping tonight.
Showing posts with label Italian restaurant. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Italian restaurant. Show all posts
Saturday, 17 April 2010
Friday, 7 August 2009
A Drowned Rat
Yesterday was not a good day for me. It would have been my Dad's 85th birthday and birthdays and anniversaries are never good days. To make things worse, my Dad was a twin, and his twin sister, who is also my Godmother, lives thousands of miles away in South Africa so my phone call to her to wish her a Happy Birthday is always a difficult event for both of us.
I had decided earlier in the day that I would go out for a meal to a local Italian restaurant in order to try to do something nice on this difficult day. I haven't been out for a meal (apart from the occasional lunch with friends) for more than a year and I knew that the food would be good and with the walk to the restaurant less than 10 minutes, it was not going to mean travelling far.
I got myself ready to go out and the rain started. It wasn't just a shower; it was a torrential downpour but there was no way that I was going to miss out on my evening out. I'm still having to use a walking stick to help me get about at the moment and the thought of trying to manage an umbrella too was more than I could cope with, so I put on my waterproof jacket (which in addition to having a hood actually extends almost down to my knees) and decided to brave the weather. I was about half way there when the rain, which was already beating down quite hard, became something akin to the monsoon. The rain was bouncing off the ground and rivers of rainwater were flowing down both the road and the pavement I live in an area that is rather hilly).
By the time that I arrived at the restaurant I felt like a drowned rat. Water was dripping off my jacket and the legs of my trousers were soaked. However, I was determined that I would do my best to enjoy my all too rare evening out and decided that I would try to forget how wet I was and how depressed I have been over the last few weeks. I received a friendly welcome and the food was superb.
By the time that I had finished my meal of garlic mushrooms, fillet steak in a green peppercorn sauce, and profiteroles (to hell with eating healthily for one evening) the rain had eased a little, but it was still pouring down sufficiently for me to realise that I was going to get wetter on the way home. My trousers were still soaking wet and I knew that they were going to be absorbing more water on that short walk home.
I arrived home in a jacket which seemed to have lost the battle as far as keeping me dry was concerned. So once I was indoors I took off all my soaking wet clothes and wrapped myself up in my lovely warm dressing gown. The clothes were hung up to dry and I decided to watch a DVD or two before going to bed.
By that time I didn't look quite so much like a drowned rat.
I had decided earlier in the day that I would go out for a meal to a local Italian restaurant in order to try to do something nice on this difficult day. I haven't been out for a meal (apart from the occasional lunch with friends) for more than a year and I knew that the food would be good and with the walk to the restaurant less than 10 minutes, it was not going to mean travelling far.
I got myself ready to go out and the rain started. It wasn't just a shower; it was a torrential downpour but there was no way that I was going to miss out on my evening out. I'm still having to use a walking stick to help me get about at the moment and the thought of trying to manage an umbrella too was more than I could cope with, so I put on my waterproof jacket (which in addition to having a hood actually extends almost down to my knees) and decided to brave the weather. I was about half way there when the rain, which was already beating down quite hard, became something akin to the monsoon. The rain was bouncing off the ground and rivers of rainwater were flowing down both the road and the pavement I live in an area that is rather hilly).
By the time that I arrived at the restaurant I felt like a drowned rat. Water was dripping off my jacket and the legs of my trousers were soaked. However, I was determined that I would do my best to enjoy my all too rare evening out and decided that I would try to forget how wet I was and how depressed I have been over the last few weeks. I received a friendly welcome and the food was superb.
By the time that I had finished my meal of garlic mushrooms, fillet steak in a green peppercorn sauce, and profiteroles (to hell with eating healthily for one evening) the rain had eased a little, but it was still pouring down sufficiently for me to realise that I was going to get wetter on the way home. My trousers were still soaking wet and I knew that they were going to be absorbing more water on that short walk home.
I arrived home in a jacket which seemed to have lost the battle as far as keeping me dry was concerned. So once I was indoors I took off all my soaking wet clothes and wrapped myself up in my lovely warm dressing gown. The clothes were hung up to dry and I decided to watch a DVD or two before going to bed.
By that time I didn't look quite so much like a drowned rat.
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