Last orders

Following the visit to the Blenheim for lunch towards the end of October (reference 1) and despite the onset of much colder weather, we did manage one more visit before public houses closed their doors, their contribution to the second lock-down.

The day started with a spin around Jubilee Way. Despite passing my helmet on my way to my bicycle in the garage, I must have got distracted and forgot to put it on before I left. I only realised when I had got to Epsom, too late to go back for it. Then I passed a fine washer, the first for a while, at a traffic lights, but in the absence of my spike (end of reference 2), no way to collect it. No movement on the car number front, so stayed stuck at 25, bounded below at 22A and above at 30. As it happened, I bagged the 25 a couple of days later, already noticed at reference 3. 

Back to the house and changed into full-on winter pully and duffel coat, BH into something comparable, and we marched off to the Blenheim, where we were comfortably accommodated in the corner of the garden, in the angle between what was the public bar and the kitchen. Entertained by the erection of gazebos against Halloween the next day, being reminded by one of the erectors that in the olden days it was not just Girl Guides and Boy Scouts, there were also the Boys' Brigade, St. John Ambulance and the Red Cross. All this prompted by a fumble with some of the knotting. FIL was a St. John's man, with part of his deal being free attendance at Portsmouth cinemas. While much later in life, when St. John's was making money out of training people in first aid, he lectured for them.

For a change, started with a new take on hummus, served on warm flat bread underneath some salad stuff. Picked out the avocado, which I do not care for, and it was fine. A sort of cross between proper hummus and the Italian bruschetta.

From there, back on piste with fish and chips for her and beefburger for me. We speculated about the reason for the two sorts of small tub, one matt, one shiny. It was one of those occasions when the coleslaw (in matt) was drowned in mayonnaise so I passed on that. Too much of a bother to drain off the offending mayonnaise, much less bother to take in a few sips, not to say gulps, of Yellowtail. While in Maigret, one word is gorgée, which to my ear sits comfortably between sip and gulp. Not trivial or hesitant on the one hand, nor greedy or gross on the other. There is also lampée, with much the same meaning, perhaps a swig, perhaps with tendencies towards greed. Consultation with a proper French speaker needed.

For dessert, we almost went off piste again, thinking to speculate with spaghetti and sweet balls. But in the end, did not even ask what this was and settled for my usual chocolate brownie, with two spoons. Chef on fine form with his chocolate drizzle gun.

Closed the proceedings wondering why the whisky was not making legs in the approved fashion on the sides of the glass. Perhaps being a blended whisky was the problem. We also admired the little pot that the HP sauce came in, the sort of pot we more usually come across at breakfast in hotels, used there for honey, jam and marmalade. We can't afford the sort of hotels which serve such things in little bowls, with spoons. In the way of the better class of family breakfast when I was young.

As it turned out, we were the only outside eaters on this occasion, although there were a couple of young men drinking. They might also have been smoking real cigarettes.

On the way home, we found that the skip in Manor Green Road, the one which contained lots of Dorking bricks, had been replaced. An opportunity missed. While the London stocks in the one in our own road had been covered up with plaster flavoured rubbish. Another opportunity missed. Quite apart from the fact that BH prefers me not to collect bricks from skips when in her company.

Afternoon entertainment provided by my trying to set the clock in our car to winter time. A challenge given the strange user interface to the clock provided on our entry-level Ford. Hopefully things will have moved on by the time we get around to a new car.

PS: the sprinkle of blog comments, apparently advertising either virtual girls - or possibly real girls - continues. A subcontinental flavour about the advertisements, although the girls might be from all over. Maybe one day I will get to take a look. I dare say blocking is an option and maybe one day I will feel the need to do something about them. Not really a problem yet.

Reference 1: https://psmv4.blogspot.com/2020/10/last-call-at-blen.html.

Reference 2: https://psmv4.blogspot.com/2019/12/pain-one.html.

Reference 3: https://psmv4.blogspot.com/2020/11/no25.html.