Namaste!

The choice for the family for Saturday night was Chinese, Italian or Indian and they chose the latter. We have two excellent Indian restaurants but one is on the outskirts so lately for convenience, we have opted for the Taj Mahal. It’s the custom to have a drink first in a rather rowdy pub – just so one doesn’t become too hidebound in the quiet life. The main problem was the height of the seats which almost required a block and tackle to anchor ones rear to same.


Duty done MTL and I set off with our brollies to reach the restaurant having parked the car nearby. We were greeted warmly and shown to a table which seemed a bit cramped so I asked for a larger one. The head waiter regretted that there was one but it was near the kitchen and I said that was the one we usually had so all was well. There seemed to be more waiters then guests and with each course we would have at least four waiters asking for our order.


Then a very large hen party arrived dressed in gymslips - hence the reason for the large number of staff. I asked one of the ladies if they were celebrating the end of A levels which pleased them no end. A pretty diminutive girl was getting married in August – lots of time to recover - and I was told she was a fire fighter. They were on holiday and were also real ale fans and Morris dancers and – she told me - they dance holding their ale mugs. Do you have a drink afterwards I asked? Afterwards, during and before she admitted with a grin. We couldn’t make out why there would be just one male amongst them but thought it would be impolite to ask.


Meanwhile DIL and I chose varieties of Tandoori chicken- convinced there would be a lower fat content, the vegetable rice was perfect and the yoghourt and mint sauce divine. The men had lots of curry and accessories and even with four healthy appetites there was lots left over. I was please to see the next table asked for doggie bags but I have learned my lesson. The last time I did it and left MTL and step daughter to enjoy it remained untouched. Such a waste!


The desserts were those pictured ones which arrive all frozen and we had gooseberry fool – (# 2 son’s favourite) at home so we passed but we did indulge in Jamaican, Irish and I can’t remember the other one – coffee. At home – over a digestif my son and I discovered we had the same name dyslexia – Hilary and Heather become as one and it is impossible to remember which syllable to emphasise in a name like Jolene for example, which can be pretty annoying to the people concerned. We’ve never had treatment or counselling for it – just have to grin and bear it