It’s barely been a month and we’re already craving a curry.
Earlier in the day we were recommended a local Indian restaurant (I say local…
it was at a certain plaza we had sworn we’d never subject ourselves to again.)
Optimistic, we crawled into a tiny restaurant.
I thought it all made for a more authentic experience but mother scanned the
walls in distaste and then looked up in horror to see they had not yet taken
down their Christmas decorations. My anxiety rose as mother said nothing for
five minutes – always a worry. I can assure you that this restaurant was by no
means a back-street shed. It also wasn’t Buckingham Palace. Unfortunately the
majority of people who frequent this particular plaza are not Spanish… they are
Brits.
A sudden howl of laughter from a few tables away and mother
jumped out of her skin. Composure gathered, she sighed exceptionally loudly and
rolled her eyes. She peered around the rest of the tables and her eyes fell
upon a young man, clearly baked like a lobster under the sun and possibly downed
one too many Heinekens. Contained within a party of four, his elbow was positioned
frightfully close to his food, with his fist trying to support his drooping head,
as he looked poor mother up and down throughout the evening.
Unimpressed with the food (it really wasn’t bad but Hove
Actually has spoiled us for Indian cuisine), she tried to ‘darling’ her way
into getting the shy waiter to heat up her wine. The worst thing that could
happen in a restaurant? Mother being served cold red wine. Quite some time
later the waiter returned with her glass of wine. “Nope. Still cold. That’s no
warmer at all” she said under her breath as he slipped away.
As time went on and the hyenas ordered more Sangria, mother
became more and more uncomfortable. Suddenly; “EVERYTHING IS WRONG, EVERYTHING
IS HORRIBLE!” came out perhaps more loudly than planned and the Irish couple
next to us giggled. More surveying the
other diners and she caught a glimpse of the man from the set of hyenas. Eyes bulging
and face pale with shock; “a canary-coloured shirt to go with his strawberry-coloured
face! I am revolted!”
So we managed to escape as quickly as possible, slightly plumper
than we’d have liked. Healthy-diets start tomorrow, no more ‘plaza’ trips.
Mother’s quote of the day: "This is the most unsophisticated
place I’ve ever been. We might as well be in bloody Benidorm!"
Charlotte-Elizabeth xoxo
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