the boat race

Time was our boat race extravaganzas started at lunchtime at The Blue Anchor, and ended up in the Samratt in Putney, with various hijinks in-between. Breakdancing in broken glass outside of the The Duke's Head anyone?

We were young and zany, "somebody" would have a bag of miniatures some trolley dolly would've given him, "somebody else" would eat as much fizzing shellfish a pound could buy at six o'clock in the evening, and a smallish "somebody" would pay for a curry for three in Golder's Green, and yet spend all evening with his head wedged in a bin. Happy days!

Now we're middle class parents so it's all changed: First we line our stomachs with a cheeky sav blanc and leek risotto whilst magic slept like a dog.


Then we repair to Claire, Steve and Isla's flat to eat the finest cheese Claire can blag from work, and try and see the race from amongst crowd. We just about manage, and here's milo, ana's and her fizzy rose and the oxford boat streaking to the finish line from their chi-chi flat:


Not convinced? Well here's the view of the finish line from their balcony:


Having sorted out Isla's dowry to our satisfaction, we repair home for a mini-meal of crispy chicken and cavalo nero to fill the space exotic cheeses and fizzy wine have left.


Naturally I can't get any cavalo nero because it's not in season. This is despite passing several healthy plants in the allotments between here and the farmer's market, so we 'make do' with kale. In many ways I presume this is what the war must've been like.

Food of the Milos
Not much to report; he ate a large chunk of Claire's extra-strong cheddar, managed to snaffle some smoked salmon (although I ate the blini), and had leek risotto for dinner. Of more interest Miss Brenda Baxendale, was the news that Steve's best friends own Montell's (or whatever it's called now). I shall get hold of some VIP passes for our next visit.

Rest now, I have work for you all later.