A long wait for a nice meal

Lorraine's birthday. Up early and blearily handing her some presents, the same presents we bought together yesterday. Up to London working on the train, and then talking to Mum at lunchtime, as well as popping into Foyles to research some business books.

Home from Victoria, and happily on time for the meal we'd booked at GB1 in The Grand Hotel. Sadly however, someone was hit by a train at Preston Park, which meant that the train I was on was held on the line for a soul sapping hour and a quarter just two minutes outside Brighton.

This meant I was almost an hour late for lunch, but Lorraine was waiting, looking quite glamorous  and sipping a gin and tonic in the lounge. Some pleasant fish-based knife and forkwork with my lovely wife, and a bottle of bubbly looking out over the road to the dark of the sea. I ate pollack and chips, which was excellently done. I remember catching lots of pollack as a kid around Guernsey. In those days they called it a cat's meat fish. Lucky cats. I ate a couple of the ones I caught, but they had been sweating in a plastic bag all day, and didn't taste that good as I remember.

A taxi to our happy home, and I was very grateful for bed.

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