Was checking my journal from 10 years ago just now and found this on the equivalent date:
A jolly good night at Bussorah Street - the
Turkish restaurant. Excellent food. (I can be pithy on occasion, no?)
Realised just how prominent good grub is in my mind with regard to what makes life worth living. And then further realised we'd been in the company of my cousin John, Jeanette and Kate all those years ago. Suddenly a whole sequence of days and events therein formed in my mind, most pleasurably so. Food and friends, eh? A great mix. All very Epicurean of me, and unapologetically so.
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