Back from Ayrshire. We went to Johnny Ho’s restaurant for dinner last night at the Harbour Inn – it has a good view of the sea and Arran, if not of the harbour. The staff were remarkably efficient and friendly. We had a chicken curry and a Harbour Inn Speciality Mixed Sizzler, which sizzled like buggery and had a lot of stuff with it: beef, chicken, huge prawns, cashews… The barbecue sauce was a trifle too sweet for my taste. We had a not-bad Spanish wine, whose name passed me by.
The taxi driver who drove us from the restaurant gave the full SP on Johnny and Peter Ho: the latter had been the chef for Johnny, but had now set up his own restaurant, in which, he said the food was better; he didn’t know who Johnny’s chef is now. He or she has a sweet tooth, I would say. I’ll check out Peter Ho’s place next time we’re north of the border.
So home and the clock’s ticking. An email from work says we’ll be meeting in Cambridge on Friday and flying out to Libya on Saturday, “all being well.” Hmm. A last minute fuck up with the visas is normal, and I’d be delighted to have a little longer at home.
The taxi driver who drove us from the restaurant gave the full SP on Johnny and Peter Ho: the latter had been the chef for Johnny, but had now set up his own restaurant, in which, he said the food was better; he didn’t know who Johnny’s chef is now. He or she has a sweet tooth, I would say. I’ll check out Peter Ho’s place next time we’re north of the border.
So home and the clock’s ticking. An email from work says we’ll be meeting in Cambridge on Friday and flying out to Libya on Saturday, “all being well.” Hmm. A last minute fuck up with the visas is normal, and I’d be delighted to have a little longer at home.
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