knock down drag out
You haven't lived until you've spent the evening in a pub with a few Brits, a few Kiwis and the odd Aussie, and that night happens to be New Year's Eve. I don't know the score, but there's a big hole in my brain right now, and as details come in, I'll share--but as all stories of epic happenings, there may be a touch of a morality tale tied onto the back.
The day started inocously enough. Woke up at around 11 after a evening spent in the local. My flat mates and I had a nice meal and afforded the opportunity to sample the local stout. I then went on a long run before I took my meal and then spent the afternoon working on Viv's computer trying to figure out how to make it connect to the internet. Failing at that, Pete and I decided it was time to head south, having to first stop off at his place in Camberwell for a pre-dinner drink; I believe they call them aperterifs. Assuming, wrongly, that we would be sipping a Vermouth or other dry spirit, Pete proceeds to pour me the largest glass of Jamison that I have ever seen. Score after the first round: evening 1, me 0.
We'd all been invited to a meal before the pub where I was to be the guest of honor. Aparantly, holidng up the American end the other night in Balham did wonders for my social calendar. So, after a long bus ride on which to regain sobriety, we found ourselves in Stratham (it's next to Brixton) at a wine ship bringing our contributions. I selected a nice Navarra blend (red) and a bottle of bubling Pino Gris, and upon arriving at the dinner party, we were all warmly welcomed. Score: 1, 1.
After the meal, a vegetarian curry that was halfway standup, despite the vegetarian nature, and all glowing from the wine, we managed to get ourselves to the pub for New Years. From this point, it get's hazy and with a few pints on top of the Whiskey and wine with a midnight tequila shot, the room took on a violent tilt, and as I traded futures on my verticality between belts of Auld Lang Syne, I began to understand that this game was starting to go very wrong. Seeking encouragement for my mates, I noted that they too were questioning how this one was going to end. Next thing I know, I'm up on the bus, Viv and Pete are passed out to my left and right, and I'm deperately trying to figure what langauge the bus driver is speaking when he's explaining that he can't take us to Waterloo because we're there. Score: 3, 1 (I allowed 2 more points).
Wondering around Waterloo Station is one of my favorite London activities: the people, the hustle, it's intense to say the least. Stumbling through it at 3 in the morning hoping to God that the tube is still running because there is no way I can handle another hour home on the bus, and Pete's staring at the wall. Fortunately, my nap on the bus helped clear my head, and we were able negotiate the elevators to the subway and a few twists, turns and miscelaneous ramblings and rants we made it back home. Score: 4,2 (I get a point for making it home, gave up one for not getting some late night food--something that will haunt me later).
So now, it's midnight again. I've finally managed to keep some food down and have made only one resolution, which you can probably guess. I've been taken to task some hydrocarbons, reaffirming my dislike for the wickedness of the Agave and have a new apreciation for the warmth and comfort of my bathroom floor tiles. Remembering that I am the worst kind of atheist, today, I prayed. So horrible I felt, that I was wondering if I've been drugged. going as far as checking my wallet and phone, which were intact. Comming down from most the drugs I've done feels better than this.
On that note, hope your New Year's was as happy as mine. Good company, good food, plenty of drink and religious expereince at the end.
thanks for reading, oh and if anyone can recomend a good Thai and/or Indian cook book, drop me a note. It's high time that I get out of my haute cuisine rut and explore another part of the world's cuisine--probably influenced by not being able to find the remote and couldn't be bothered to get off the couch--except to evacuate my system.
Ben
The day started inocously enough. Woke up at around 11 after a evening spent in the local. My flat mates and I had a nice meal and afforded the opportunity to sample the local stout. I then went on a long run before I took my meal and then spent the afternoon working on Viv's computer trying to figure out how to make it connect to the internet. Failing at that, Pete and I decided it was time to head south, having to first stop off at his place in Camberwell for a pre-dinner drink; I believe they call them aperterifs. Assuming, wrongly, that we would be sipping a Vermouth or other dry spirit, Pete proceeds to pour me the largest glass of Jamison that I have ever seen. Score after the first round: evening 1, me 0.
We'd all been invited to a meal before the pub where I was to be the guest of honor. Aparantly, holidng up the American end the other night in Balham did wonders for my social calendar. So, after a long bus ride on which to regain sobriety, we found ourselves in Stratham (it's next to Brixton) at a wine ship bringing our contributions. I selected a nice Navarra blend (red) and a bottle of bubling Pino Gris, and upon arriving at the dinner party, we were all warmly welcomed. Score: 1, 1.
After the meal, a vegetarian curry that was halfway standup, despite the vegetarian nature, and all glowing from the wine, we managed to get ourselves to the pub for New Years. From this point, it get's hazy and with a few pints on top of the Whiskey and wine with a midnight tequila shot, the room took on a violent tilt, and as I traded futures on my verticality between belts of Auld Lang Syne, I began to understand that this game was starting to go very wrong. Seeking encouragement for my mates, I noted that they too were questioning how this one was going to end. Next thing I know, I'm up on the bus, Viv and Pete are passed out to my left and right, and I'm deperately trying to figure what langauge the bus driver is speaking when he's explaining that he can't take us to Waterloo because we're there. Score: 3, 1 (I allowed 2 more points).
Wondering around Waterloo Station is one of my favorite London activities: the people, the hustle, it's intense to say the least. Stumbling through it at 3 in the morning hoping to God that the tube is still running because there is no way I can handle another hour home on the bus, and Pete's staring at the wall. Fortunately, my nap on the bus helped clear my head, and we were able negotiate the elevators to the subway and a few twists, turns and miscelaneous ramblings and rants we made it back home. Score: 4,2 (I get a point for making it home, gave up one for not getting some late night food--something that will haunt me later).
So now, it's midnight again. I've finally managed to keep some food down and have made only one resolution, which you can probably guess. I've been taken to task some hydrocarbons, reaffirming my dislike for the wickedness of the Agave and have a new apreciation for the warmth and comfort of my bathroom floor tiles. Remembering that I am the worst kind of atheist, today, I prayed. So horrible I felt, that I was wondering if I've been drugged. going as far as checking my wallet and phone, which were intact. Comming down from most the drugs I've done feels better than this.
On that note, hope your New Year's was as happy as mine. Good company, good food, plenty of drink and religious expereince at the end.
thanks for reading, oh and if anyone can recomend a good Thai and/or Indian cook book, drop me a note. It's high time that I get out of my haute cuisine rut and explore another part of the world's cuisine--probably influenced by not being able to find the remote and couldn't be bothered to get off the couch--except to evacuate my system.
Ben
posted by Ben-in-UK at 11:47 PM
1 Comments:
Can't recommend a good Thai or Indian cookbook but Albuquerqueian red chili cures everything!
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