So – Slough It Is
The inevitable nightmare ensued this morning when I decided that a post was in order. Several attempted break-ins later, including one particular hole of a cyber caff in Hammersmith where the owner took exception to my incessant pecking at the window and belted me on the head with a hunk of sugary doughnut. Joyfully, it was a Krispy Kreme Dulce De Leche which served us well as a fucking delicious lunchtime snack. It also gave us the necessary carb uplift for the journey that was to follow…
I don’t know why, but I really thought with all the publicity I’ve had recently that at least one cyber joint in London would have heard of me enough to be chuffed to have me post from there. Oh well.
Mart suggested the only real option was to wing it to Al’s place in Slough. Jesus. Thing is, I knew he was right. What with ‘L’ away and Norm gone all anti-pigeon on us, we had no choice but to head up the M4 corridor. As expected it was a totally shit journey. Wind blowing us akimbo all over the place. Even the obligatory ‘eyes-right’ when passing Hayes meant we nearly ended up decking it into a tree. Pissing with rain again too. Where the fuck’s it all coming from? Does it mean that one day soon we’ll be able to walk to France?
Got to Al’s and, thankfully, he was in and immediately welcomed us with big wide open arms.
“Mr Brian. Long time no seeing you. Would you be pleased to be staying with me for a takeaway? For the olden time’s sakes?”
Would I be pleased? Fucking delighted more like. He let me in to the old familiar back office, and I was off. I immediately typed him a ‘Cheers, dude’, and got on with replying to a couple of comments while Mart pretended to ski on a couple of pencils.
Al said we could stay over if we wanted, which is cool. So – Slough it is, for the next couple of days at least. Mart said he wouldn’t mind a Mars factory fly-by later on so he could “sniff some choclatey goodness”. I told him he was welcome to, if it was still there, but I was totally staying put for a nosh up on some fresh-out-of-the-box-take-away. It’s not often we get the luxury of hot food in a box. This is what I went for in the end:
Stir fried beef with ginger and spring onions. Goes without saying I gave the spring onions a wide berth.
Tough choice but I always figure munching on any kind of bird is somewhat hypocritical, never mind downright fucking rude.
Mart said he felt he was far away enough from the chicken family, and gave it a go. Choked on it instantly. He said it was ‘a bit on the tough side’. I said it was karma.
Al’s just locking up and we’re about to hit the old familiar ledge. Good to be back as it goes.
Nice one, Al.