The Food/Porn Binomial

Food with a view...

Unff.
Bank Holiday Monday, thou art an enemy to the Disappearing Man.

Cool day, though, to be fair. Starbucks, shedloads of work done (almost 200 pages of proofreading, and counting), and meeting d for a Cardiff lunch.

Did I overeat this lunchtime? Oh hellyeah.
Was there even a dessert involved? Yes, there was. Again with the Aristotelian Fuck-You.
Should either of these things have happened the day before a weigh-in? Nah, probably not.
Am I going to wail and bitch about it? Nah. Will undoubtedly find other things to wail and bitch about instead.
Do I feel like I ever want to eat again? Noooooo, even the idea is nauseating right now.

Any chance of having made Disappearing progress this week? Nah - An unofficial weigh-in this morning put me at exactly the same as last week's official weigh-in. Add a major Indian blow-out to the picture and progress - notsomuch. Indeed, I'll be lucky to hold the line.

Waah, waah, deadlines, deadlines, etc etc. Will be stricter this week coming up, and hope to crack my way into the 17s finally by a week tomorrow.

While we sat having lunch at Spice Quarter, an Indian place that was new to us though, I noticed something.
'Oh, that explains that,' I said.
'What?' asked d, swllowing a mouthful of butter chicken.
'We're opposite a porn shop,' spearing some chicken jalfrezi.
d coughed.
'What?' she said again, perhaps not unreasonably.
'We always have good food when we're opposite a porn shop,' I said, nodding across at 'Colin's Books - Adult Entertainment Only - DVD's from £10' - yes of course the most annoying thing about that was the misplaced apostrophe in 'DVD's,' I'm an editor, goddammit.
'Oh.' d thought about it for a moment. 'Like Carluccio's?'
'Exactly,' I agreed - there's a Private shop which pretty much fills the view from our local Carluccio's restaurant. 'Actually, come to think of it, last time we discovered a kick-ass Indian place in Cardiff it was Spice Berry - riiiight next to Colin's Books.'
'Yyyyeah,' she acknowledged. 'You don't think perhaps we're just lazy when we're hungry and end up in the same street?
'And that other place,' I said, ignoring the impact of laziness almost completely, 'the one in London. Can't remember...'
'Oh, the Lido pastry place with those beautiful desserts!'
'That's the one, by the big place with...was it rubber outfits or somesuch?'
d pulled her glasses just a little down her nose, grinned and looked at me over the rims. 'I really don't recall, dear.'
'Oh - that Chinese place in Paris, right around the corner from the Moulin Rouge.'
She muttered something about the only good meal we had on our Parisian honeymoon.
'Well, to be fair - I didn't realise I'd booked us into a hooker-hotel in the red light district. People probably weren't going to the area for the quality of its bouillabaisse, dear.'
'True,' she said. 'To this day, nothing says Paris like moo goo gai pan.'
I shrugged. 'See? Good food opposite or next to porn joints.'
She kept up the grin, as if giving my proposition some serious thought.
'So what are you saying? I should open up a diner and just called it Grey's? Offer different service levels? Buy two desserts, get an appliance of your choice free?'
'Hmm,' I agreed. 'Fifty Shades of Frossssssting...'
'Down boy,' she laughed. 'Deadlines, remember?'
So if there's a conclusion we could pass on to the world, I guess it would be this: if you're looking for good food - go in search of porn.

But don't perhaps do so the day before a weigh-in.