Putting on the swank
Up to the London again for lunch with First Matie and Graeme for the inaugural self-employed Christmas lunch. Went to the Kensington Park Hotel, and had rather a nice lunch in the Park Terrace Restaurant near some plaster telamones (although without quite such a glorious view as suggested on their website). Graeme looked top in a matching cravat and handkerchief, his smart hunting waistcoat, and nice jacket. I think he needed a monocle though. Kate in a lovely green dress and glamorous high heels. Even I dug out a tie and jacket. Lots of white wine and rather nice food. I had a pea based soup, turkey Christmas themed main course, and a pear tartan for afters. All good. After, we lurched out across the road to a pub for an absolute bloody final, after Kate in no-nonsense mood, asked the staff for the location of "a decent boozer".
One abf in the pub, discussing speech writing and politics, amid general teasing and cheekiness, before painlessly back to Brighton.
Home at sixish, to - yippee - find one of my long-awaited cheques on the mat. A Happy Christmas from the Gods of Freelancing.
Then met Lorraine, where we went to a buzzy Battle of Trafalgar for a cheeky beer, and a full debrief of the week. Then we bought fish and chips from Sing Lee and watched three episodes of Frasier on the trot. All good.
Up to the London again for lunch with First Matie and Graeme for the inaugural self-employed Christmas lunch. Went to the Kensington Park Hotel, and had rather a nice lunch in the Park Terrace Restaurant near some plaster telamones (although without quite such a glorious view as suggested on their website). Graeme looked top in a matching cravat and handkerchief, his smart hunting waistcoat, and nice jacket. I think he needed a monocle though. Kate in a lovely green dress and glamorous high heels. Even I dug out a tie and jacket. Lots of white wine and rather nice food. I had a pea based soup, turkey Christmas themed main course, and a pear tartan for afters. All good. After, we lurched out across the road to a pub for an absolute bloody final, after Kate in no-nonsense mood, asked the staff for the location of "a decent boozer".
One abf in the pub, discussing speech writing and politics, amid general teasing and cheekiness, before painlessly back to Brighton.
Home at sixish, to - yippee - find one of my long-awaited cheques on the mat. A Happy Christmas from the Gods of Freelancing.
Then met Lorraine, where we went to a buzzy Battle of Trafalgar for a cheeky beer, and a full debrief of the week. Then we bought fish and chips from Sing Lee and watched three episodes of Frasier on the trot. All good.
Comments