Goldie is still alive, but is still looking morose and suicidal.
I am worried he may try to drown himself.
Another day of intense writing and then in the evening, we try out a new local Indian restaurant, since the last one has not been up to scratch. First good sign: they take friggin’ ages which means they are not just re-heating something cobbled together last July. Secondly, a full restaurant of happy diners. Thirdly, poppodoms gratis. Fourth, upon inspection of chicken korma, I note a dusky hue and slightly lumpy texture – both positive signs.
In the end, I score the chicken korma (my control dish when first gracing an Indian with my patronage), a very respectable 93-points and I will be back. After, we veg out to something on ITV, whereby Michael Winner dines at someone’s abode, makes unfunny comments, grimaces a lot and finally awards supposedly coveted “Winner’s Stars” for his host’s cuisine. We sit aghast as a spellbinding Indian feast is deemed worthy of nothing, whilst some fawning posh tart from the Home Counties who chucked a lamb chop under the grill gets two. Consequently, we both feel as if we have just wasted an hour of our lives, but that’s our fault for being suckered in to such crap.
Afterwards, I work until one in the morning on my Petrus chapter, which I am becoming rather obsessed about.
Filed under: Uncategorized Tagged: | chicken korma, goldfish, indian, michael winner, petrus
