I'm Turning Japanese (I Really Think So)
... in the words of the song. Not that I am, or one can, but I am turning into the food version of a cineaste (foodie?): last night to Giraffe in Hampstead with A & G, and tonight to La Brocca with T for my all-time-favourite-meal (spinach and ricotta ravioli on a bed of rocket dressed with parmesan, pine-nuts and lemon juice), washed down with a fabulous bottle of Gavi.
Turns out that I've done a football shidduch (watch google get their hands on that one) - T is a season ticket holder and has a spare ticket for Monday's (allegedly) big match, and P is a big fan. So I've hooked them up and they're going to talk about football and Pompey and other stuff I don't really get all the way up the M1. In another strangely bizarre move, I have also agreed to try out for A's women's five-a-side football team next week. It won't be so much Bend It Like Beckam as Sock It Like Some Other Football Similie. Although, as I pointed out to her, I know less about football that I once did about derivatives.
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