Friends, we have been to Away*, where we have paid people cash money** to cook things, bring them to us, and do the washing up afterwards. This, I feel, is a business model that could really catch on.
In a generous nod to covid security (and a longed-for life of sybaritic luxury), we let the hotel people bring us breakfast to our room. To our room!!! Like this: "Knock, knock, room service, enjoy your breakfast."
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| No wrangling with the hotel toast machine for us |
We dined in in style with a box of mezze from a Greek deli***, and out in style with a fancy French restaurant***, which was high up our list of 'we hope they survive the pandemic'.
I had two ice creams, he had an ice cream and a morning bun*****. There was fresh pizza at the market, and locally-brewed beer (not the town's most famous brewery), and CHEESE, and the sun shone and shone and shone.
I shall be flowing laterally all week and hoping no harm has come from these wild shenanigans. But in the meantime, the market supplied our first asparagus (English, of course) of the year. We shall be anointing it with a light****** sauce of capers, lemon, butter and cream.
Happy spring, one and all.
(Oh, to come back to earth with a bump: very pleasing to note the numbers of shops, eateries and the like flying Ukrainian flags or similar. Would it weren't necessary.)
*Bury St Edmunds
**Mostly contactless, in fact
***But forgot to go back later to get a jar of Cretan thyme honey, curses
****Have the cheeseboard, it's out of this world. (By luck they chose Maroilles as one of my five, which was beloved of Liz.)
*****Bit like the love child of a kouign aman and a Chelsea bun, stuffed with creme pat. Eating one is a bit of a wrestling match, but I'm told it's worth the fight
******Ha! Believe that, and you'll believe anything
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