Feel the pintxos

I wrote this about 565 feet up in the Seattle space needle, constructed by 50 handpicked iron workers who earned $3.92 per hour. My was I high, unlike last night when I received a $30 bill for a glass of not so special Rioja and an amount of food I could of fit into a 35mm film case. Following my ill informed Seattle style pintxo selection, I was still peckish and resorted to pointing at a regular's choice. Three little buns upon a rectangle plate (one of many shapes), bursting with shredded pork. Jennine then informed me the tuna version was better and her favourite to boot.

W2N2- I don't think I saw these on the menu. What are they called?
P Jennine- Pork and tuna sliders...

Too late, I'd spent the best part of $20 dollars on carpaccio of vegetables and a Liz Hurley styled bocadillo, nothing like how they were described. Nevermind, I'll be down later to try the tuna slider, as the pork one was sooooo good.

PS. It's not really worth going up the Needle, Smiths Tower has similar views, is cheaper and better looking.

Before Bosley

Got to Seattle after waking up with a combination of lag hangover. The flight was to say the least a bit heavy... There was a mad Russian guy who was drunk demanding more beer from the stewardesses, playing one against the other, I thought he was going to threaten to chop their hands off. McCloud was waiting for him in Calgary. Game over.

I kept myself awake as much as I wanted to sleep, to be right for the next day. Bright and early the next morning, I got ready to search for the Man U game that kicked off at 09.30 American time. I was staying next door to Eddington's on 2nd Ave, which was tipped to show any requested sport on one of their many screens.

W2N2- I was told you might show the foot... soccer here.
BT- Yeah sure, Premiership? Let me check the channels for you, just a second, there you go. My names Joe. Can I get you as drink? Are you new in the neighbourhood?

I didn't get far did I? We chatted, I ordered. Then the strangest of adverts came on, welcome to America.

W2N2- Eggs Brenda please and a coffee.

The breakfast was a cross between egg Fiorentina and Benedict. It arrived and was not shy with it's presence as it sat tight on a 14 inch plate. Who the f*ck was Brenda I wondered? Maybe the name's anagrammatic? Benedict Fiorentina, I hope not!

So bad I barred myself Part II

Well... It was a Wednesday. Pissing down, and I had a day to sort loads of stuff out before embarking on an unplanned trip via Seattle. A text popped in whilst in work 'game 2nite? Have a spare'. 'yes'! Don't mind watching Tottenham and I am regarded as the high scoring mascot. We arranged to meet in a pub around Highbury and Islington. I was early and made my way down Upper Street, checked a couple of pubs and was taken by the welcoming look of the library.

I ordered a Guinness at £3.75, it came with a huge head.
W2N2- Could you top that up please?
Barfly obscured my vision momentarily, as my Guinness was wiped, topped up, scraped and rinsed. And then, a smell, it was familiar, yet somewhat out of place, I turned with my frankenpint to find a table. What was that smell? The surging odour surfed me smoothly into a seat facing the door. It was like an unwashed, rush hour gusset scuttling along on the Victoria line, rancid. Pint now settled, I went for a needed autumnal gulp, another bad smell hit my nostrils.!
W2N2- This pint doesn't smell right...
TL- Oh, that's because it's the first of the day.
W2N2- You knowingly served me the first of the day at 18.30 hours?!!!
Now, we all know what the first of the day smells like! Fish sauce! That was the first smell, what a combination, like a bad cocktail! What is it with Thai food in pub's?
TL- Do you want another?
W2N2- ????????
I left and went to The Cock after all that, not the nicest, but immediately by the station and with good Guinness too. Oh and Tottenham beat the young Boys 4-0.

V I Pigeons

People love buying into anything these days, especially if it's a crap party in a field full of tw@s. I got a free pair of tickets to such an event and thought I'd go and see a few bands, plus the opportunity to get my festival chic gear on! The Barber country manor hunters snarled in passing at floral welly brigades as bright yella, plastic framed shade wearing possies in bad hats lobbed beer. I criss crossed to performances that annoyingly overlapped, cutting through more clueless crowds that waited for a new leader and direction like starlings, then realised they had no finesse or agility. I was witnessing more of an urban pigeon existence, capable of spotting tiny crumbs from a great distance, glitching and sniffing them with a dirty, chipped beak, before clumsily descending upon them en masse.

I made a pie that morning and took some for later that day, but ate it before we even got there… It was mega! When we arrived, I bumped into a friend of mine Jay, who gave an account of a few bands he'd seen including a solo Ryder.

Jay- Watched Shaun Ryder before. It was mad, he came on stage and looked off his head. Everyone just started shouting and throwing Carling cups and beer bottles at him n stuff. He was funny as fuck though, cos he just stood there calm as fuck saying 'you're all nob'eads' and 'where's yer manners' over and over for about 2 or 3 minutes, then fucked off.

If only I'd left after 3 minutes…

One after work? Part II

13th August and a Friday, it had been a long, tenuous week, a bite to eat and a trip to the pictures was in order. C&R cafe is close to the Curzon, two birds one stone. I cut through Soho as before and hawked a penny, I swooped for it, this could be my change of fortune... Would you believe it!? The frickin thing was glued to the floor! I moved on quickly and entered C&R cafe, showed a single finger and was seated at the one and only remaining table. As before, I was the only person with a fork and spoon. It bugged me big time! You can't judge a person's chopstick skills from appearance alone can you? They could have at least set a test first.

My food arrived as the door opened and closed, reservations made using hand gestures in a Ted Rodgers fashion. The place was well busy, loyal punters waited outside for a vacant table in the drizzle. Inside, all eyes were on me, I picked my napkin off the floor for a third time. Was it the cutlery? I thought. I dreamed of demonstrating my amazing chopstick skills for a moment.

The food was interesting, I had the Nasi lemak as recommended and would have really enjoyed it except for the fork, the spoon, sitting by the over active door and above all, the staring eyes. That was when I realised, I was also sat beneath a 60 inch TV.

One after work?

One it was, un Guinness and I was off, cutting through China Town. Feeling peckish, I thought I'd check on a cafe a friend recommended. I'd looked for it once before to no avail, but remembered one alley I didn't venture, due to some 3 man blockade and a slight trickle of urine. I knew it, it was up that alley all along, just as I thought. C&R.

My friend's recommendations were Beef Rendeng, Nasi Goreng or Nasi Lemak. I went menu blind as I gazed upon the menu, panicked, then ordered Mee Goreng, grilled dumplings and a Tiger beer. Bad move. Dumplings tasted artificially smoked and the meat hard, more a dumpwürst than a dumpling. The regulars had it right I soon discovered. They were enjoying what I was supposed to order and with water. Next time…