Friday 1 November 2013


I've been a little quiet of late. 2 months have been and gone, there was a trip to Arisaig, a bout of tonsillitis, a few birthdays, a wedding. I'd been planning to post today. A list for Friday perhaps, a link to a gig I'm looking forward to next week, a book, you know how it goes. Or maybe I could tell you about my morning. How I can't remember if my alarm went off but I can remember how Chris gently shook me awake after I had overslept, how I tried to claw back the minutes and managed to take a big chip out of my favourite mug in the process, how I had to get the bus to work to be at a 9am meeting, how I went to get a coffee and a pain au chocolat to compensate for it all but I'm still sleepy and I want to go home. But I'm sure you don't need to hear me whining so I'll tell you about tonight instead. Tonight I'll finish work and Chris will come to meet me. We'll walk to Analogue to pick up some books he's ordered, maybe a magazine, and then we'll head over to Blackfriars.

I feel a little remiss in not mentioning Blackfriars before now. It's the best kind of place, good drinks, nice people to talk to, great food. We sit at our favourite table and order a beer (they were good, now, with a new list, excellent). We chat, between ourselves, with friends, with Wes, Andrew, Georgie, we have another drink. We might have talked about making dinner at home but the bar menu calls to us. I'll see the chips with bearnaise sauce, the steak roll. Chris will start talking about the black pudding with fried egg, the broccoli salad. And it's done, we stay to eat. Again, and again, and again. As I said, it's the best kind of place.

1 comment:

Caz said...

Great post Gemma. Having a local place you love is so important. It's so much a part of your routine that you hardly notice it. I've lived in a lot of different UK cities and it's nearly always been our local pub or cafe that stood out as the place where some of the best memories were made. Just passing time on a Friday night after work.