|View from room 571, Hotel Galles, Milan|
The meal was okay. Alright, it could have been better, but that wasn't the restaurant's fault, it was mine. Why? Because I should have opted for simplicity but didn't. I should have ordered a pizza and a glass of wine, but instead I opted for risotto to start followed by fillet of sole, except that it clearly wasn't a fillet. An embarassing moment occured. Or rather a panicky situation developed. Not as bad as it could have been. I could have choked on a fish bone. I might have needed the waiters to turn me upside down to dislodge a fishbone, but oh no, it wasn't that bad. I took a mouthful of fish only to discover that I had a mouthful of bones and needed to get rid of them pronto! The only option open to me was to spit them out into the napkin, which I did surrepticiously, and then guarded the napkin with my life. The last thing I wanted now was for a waiter to whisk the napkin away from me and empty its contents - spat out fish and bones - on himself or even another guest. Had something like that happened I would have died on the spot. But it didn't, fortunately. In the end, when nobody was looking, I put the offending napkin on a table recently vacated by four women. They looked like the sort of people who would spit a load of fish bones into a napkin.
I left a cash tip, but I should have walked out without giving them so much as a dime, but it wasn't their fault. The place was great, it certainly had a lot more atmosphere than the hotel restaurant. I'd travelled up to the sixth floor to check it out and found it seriously lacking in the atmosphere and general comfort department. It was drab, poorly-lit and, I'm afraid, considerably depressing. Fortunately none of the waiters saw me leave, so I was in the clear. I hadn't ordered anything.
|Room 571, Hotel Galles, Milan|
There are many things I should be writing about, but I might leave it as I need to get some sleep. A busy day tomorrow awaits me, but there is time to dish up a few awards. As you might imagine, travelling often means reading newspapers and newspapers always make me angry. Angry enough to put pen to paper, so I thought I'd introduce some awards.
1. Atrocity of the Week - this goes to India and four men arrested in Northern India over allegations that they burnt alive two low-caste children. One has to ask why, but sadly the answer is simply not good enough as it involved a group of men killing an eight-month old girl and her two-year-old brother by igniting gasoline poured through the windows of their home. What else can be said other than what bastards! "This is a fight among families, not about castes," said Hawahar Yadav, an official from the office of Harayana's chief minister. Oh, well that's alright, burn some more children, don't worry about us.
2. Nob Cheese of the Week - well it has to go to BMW driver Neil Waugh who blocked the way of two paramedics urgently trying to get to hospital. There is a word I would like to use to describe this man, but despite the fact that it is only four letters, it is offensive in the extreme as it rhymes with hunt and runt. Needless to say, Waugh has tried to weedle out of it saying he has been portrayed as the kind of person who would rather let someone die in an ambulance than move his car. Well, yes, that is because you DID just that, you, you, you... (fill in your own expletives).
3. Political Wanker of the Week - it has to be David Cameron for so many reasons, one being that he is David Cameron, but also because he is reportedly 'delighted' that his plan to cut tax credits has passed the House of Commons. He is also Political Wanker of the Week because he cannot stand up to the Chinese and tell them to fuck off. Rather than do that he's gone and involved them in our nuclear power supply. What a runt! Furthermore, he is clearly going to do nothing to save our ailing steel industry, which is also the fault of the Chinese. Sod the red carpet treatment, that Xi Jinping needs a slap! Innit!
I'm off to bed. Goodnight!