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I woke up choking. I don't think I was close to dying but for a moment it felt like I was. Acid reflux. And the moral of the story is don't eat curry.

Ailz and I had lunch yesterday at the Cafe Lahore, which is probably the best curry house this side of Manchester. Very nice. But the lesson needs to be learned- curries do me harm and if I want to live to be 80 I must LEAVE THEM ALONE.

I'm not going to pretend this is any great hardship. Curry is possibly my favourite food, but the truth of the matter is I don't like any food all that much. In spite of tuition by experts I find the whole business of eating a bore- and the restaurant experience is particularly boring because it takes a huge chunk out of the day which could be spent doing- oh, almost anything else. Restaurants make me edgy and anxious. I hate the waiting, I hate the fact that someone is suffering the indignity of serving me. I want to read a newspaper, I want to listen to the radio, I want to watch TV, I want to shovel the stuff in as quickly as possible and get on with my life.

Date: 2004-08-24 04:57 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] poliphilo.livejournal.com
I had the same schooling- 1950s table manners- everyone seated at the kitchen table- children should be seen and not heard.

My parents gradually slackened off. By the time I was in my teens some meals (Sunday dinner for instance) were taken in front of the TV.

I like to watch the news while I'm eating- and maybe have a magazine on the go at the same time. I tend not to read books because they demand too much concentration- and the last time I tried it I managed to smother The Color Purple in sauce.

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