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Coffee

Flat WhiteLook at this.

Gorgeous isn’t it?

This isn’t my photo, but the coffee I had this morning in Manchester looked just like this.

And it was strong, seriously wizzy strong!

I’d gone to a place called Northern Tea Power in the Northern Quarter.

I go there often if I’m in Manchester. I’m probably twice as old as the next oldest person there, but I guess because I dress OK, not like some of my old duffer mates, they don’t seem to mind.

This baby is called a flat white, which to my mind was just a normal coffee with milk, but no, this is made is a very deliberate way, folding the frothed milk into the coffee in a way that makes it super smooth.

I just wish that this place would do a breakfast that’s more than just toast. I like TeaCup around the corner for that. Scrambled eggs – my favourite, especially as I don’t eat bacon any more.

I brought one of the lads down to Manchester today for a job interview. And so I have the next few hours to drift around, and try not to spend too much money!

Not too old to get a hangover!

I’m always hoping that I have become older with the compensation of also becoming wiser.

But I’m not sure!

Hiros came up for the night last night. He’s going to meet clients in Darlo today and so it was a good excuse to get together again.

Having had such excellent food down in Manchester I decided that the only think I could do was to cook a curry from scratch, and I ended up doing three. I made a keema peas, minced lamb with muttar – or peas, I did sag paneer, which is cheese and spinach, and then the main dish was a slow cooked lamb rogan. All in all it was quite excellent even though I say it myself.

The trouble was I had told Hiros that I was going to made curry, so he brought beers, lots and lots of beers. All different, all strong and all completely delicious.

We probably only had five pints in all, but some of them were eight and nine percenters, and even though we drank water too I woke up feeling rotten this morning. It’s the first proper hangover I have had in ages and I know I should know better. The funny thing is that I’m actually quite enjoying doing nothing as it takes its toll. A cup of tea out in the garden, back in for a lie on the sofa. It takes some beating!

Birmingham. Beers. And silliness.

Oh my lordy, why do I never learn.

Yesterday was a brilliaant afternoon.

I caught the train down to Brum and got there at about 12.30.

Blimey it was busy!

Walking up through town was good. I worked there many years ago and still have a real love for the place, the silly accent, and jolly outlook.

The lads – all of us old timers now, were meeting in O’Neills on Broad Street which is the dreadful clubbing street that every big town has.

Beer at just past noon isn’t my scene, but the first one slipped down well, as did the second, third, and many more.

There were a group of Irish lads behind us drinking funny looking drinks from funny looking glasses like this: (hopefully I’ll remember to pop the photo in here when I can find my phone again).

So being the daft old farts that we are I went to the bar and said – we’ll have four of what they’re drinking. I’m probably the oldest person the girl has ever sold a VRB, or vodka red bull as I now know its called, to.

They just slipped down our throats. As did the next ones and the ones after that. Yet, miraculously we didn’t. I guess it was the intense conversation that kept us going as I reckon I feel asleep within minutes of sitting on the train home.

I didn’t feel too great today – but then it is a long while since I’ve had 7 pints, and I have never had four VRBs!


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