May 2nd, 2005

modigliani

Chronicling Small Beer...

Friday became gradually better and the weekend was eminently survivable and possibly even one which I would relive again, if I had to choose a quiet and non-untoward weekend to relive.

Post grocery-shopping, we dropped into Stilbruch to treat ourselves to a meal. The owner is always exceptionally friendly to us and the food is fantastic. This time he asked if it would be okay for me to translate his menu into English for him. I said of course and waived any offer of payment, since it would hardly be an arduous job. This also made me a feel a bit more valued somehow and it is a bloody good restaurant. We were treated to a ridiculous amount of schnapps and ate a fantastic meal which... the owner would then not let us pay for. No matter how much we begged. We wouldn't have ordered quite so much had we known or quite such expensive dishes... but... 'Twas good!

The translation took no time at all, so we dropped it into the restaurant on Saturday and sat down and had some drinks. I refused the offer of money and of a bottle of schnapps on the grounds that we had had such a good meal the night before. Somehow we persuaded him to let us pay for our drinks (especially important as we had also brought a friend along!) and then... he gave us a bottle of good wine. Buttock-clenching, but in a good way.

Saturday was our night for Hoffman C and on Sunday we were with Hoffman B. The weather was warm enough for us to sit outside one of my favourite café/pubs and generally chat about stuff, the basic theme of the evening being 'Into Every Life A Little Shit Must Fall' but in a clean enough way to allow it to segué into 'Outrageous Tales of Absurd Actions' and a general continuation of my thesis 'Anyone Who Says That They Actively Like and Love London Has Little Imagination and a Screw Loose' (I mean: Bits of London, fine; not the WHOLE stinking heap. Finding it Interesting, fine; but the people are not exactly warm and giving and the place is not really healthful... etc.etc.).

I also had the opportunity (lengthy) of playing with an insane, small dog, which had decided to run around the pub garden offering people a stick, a gesture recognisable to small, insane dog appreciators everywhere as the 'I Will Play-Growl at You While You Shake the Stick and Then I Will Shake the Stick and Continue Growling' game. This is a variant on the 'Stick Throwing' game or the I Have a Stick/Ball/Stone/X, Come Chase Me' game. Small dogs are generally quite limited in imagination in this regard. This dog, however, kept eating the sticks and then barking excitedly at me, apparently under the misapprehension that I could magically produce yet more sticks. This meant that I had to look for more sticks (aided by the dog which decided to cut out the middle man and try to pull up a rose bush as a source of sticks. Fortunately it gave up.) and be barked at and shake and throw sticks all evening (I do not do the chasing game). I like insane, small dogs, even if they are insane and are indeed small.

Yes, I spend too much time and money in the pub.