This Friday the inevitable happened and after work I went into town to meet MrS and a load of his colleagues for post-work, pre-weekend drinks. I seemed to hold my own with 7 strawberry mojitos and my first ever Jägerbomb.
At about 9:30 we left them to it and went in search of food. We ended up at Gordon Ramsey’s Bread Street Kitchen where I was tempted by the steak and lobster but decided it might be a case of “eyes bigger than belly” and instead opted for BSK short rib burger. MrS did have the steak and lobster so I purloined my first ever mouthful of lobster from his plate. Not enough to make it worthy of being crossed of the Fuckit List tho. That needs to be a big buttery plateful consumed whilst wearing a bib and wielding lobster crackers….
We avoided the £785 bottle of white and went for a more reasonable Fleurie! The food was excellent, as was the service. Because we hadn’t booked, they asked if we minded a communal table, which we expected to be sharing with a group of others already seated, but instead we had a table for 16 all to ourselves all night.
We talked about our first date and MrS told me something he’d not told me before about that night. I arrived before him because he had a late meeting to get out of. What I didn’t know was that the waiters had sat us at different tables and for a few minutes there had been the potential for us to have decided the other had chickened out and wasn’t coming. We often say ‘what if’ about the start of our relationship… What if I hadn’t seen his tweet; what if I hadn’t been travelling to London that week; what if he’d been away on the only day I could be there; what if, out of all those people we tweet with, we’d never found each other. And now this little extra what if… It makes me think even more that we were meant to find each other.
Saturdays are all about houses at the moment. People viewing ours, us viewing other people’s. This Saturday we did both. I knew MrS hated the house we were viewing as soon as we walked in it. As usual the photos had been slightly misleading and the kitchen, although new and beautiful, was too small and what had looked like a fab conservatory turned out to be cheaply done. We are currently battling between fab houses and bad locations. We need to be near certain train stations, in certain areas and with a certain number of bedrooms and bathrooms. What we don’t want is a perfect house that takes hours to commute to and from, if we’re buying a home we want to spend time in it. I’m certain the right place will turn up eventually though. But it’d be good if that’s before C*****mas and we have to accommodate 7 of us!
Last night we went to the Open Air Theatre in Regents Park. We had been talking about it a few months back, and MrS, seizing the moment once again, bought tickets for Hobson’s Choice. The weather has been dreadful the last few days but by lunchtime yesterday the sun was out and we were hopeful of it not raining. The theatre don’t cancel performances unless the rain is monsoon like or involves the possibility of lightening (and therefore the threat of injury!). We walked through a still busy Regents Park. People were still occupying deck chairs and rowing on the water, tired children wandering home with their parents, eating one last ice cream.
We had ordered a picnic to collect at the bar to save us having to lug one with us, and we enjoyed it in disappearing sun and peaceful atmosphere.
The play, Hobson’s Choice, has received very good reviews, and rightly so. This was the final night and the cast were relaxed and clearly enjoying themselves. Mark Benton was fantastic, playing the often drunk, eponymous anti hero with aplomb. But the real hero is Will Mossop, coerced by the wilful and forceful Maggie into marrying him because she can see the potential no one else can, including himself! Karl Davies transformation from wimp to master of his own destiny is perfect and Jodie McNee makes us feel warmth and love for Maggie. The whole production was perfect and we both agreed that this was the nicest experience of theatre we’d had in a very long time.