Where’s my drink gone?

I made up for the lack of sushi yesterday by having it for lunch and dinner today, proving that you can’t have too much of a good thing. Particularly when you eat at Sticks n Sushi.

It made for a delicious end to a busy day.

Following shopping, I hit the garden.

I managed to finish the Crazy Bed, topping it with our own compost, preparing it for planting up. I’d almost emptied one of the compost bins so I added some more from the final bin against the shed. Soon it will be completely gone.

After sushi, we hit the park and Emma managed to lose another manky ball, this time in a big maze of brambles. That’s the last she’ll see of that one. Fortunately it was on the way home so she’d already had enough running around.

Eventually I headed into town, it being date night. An odd passenger at Surbiton couldn’t make up his mind whether he was going to get on or not. He kept jumping in then out, checking the indicator board then starting the process again. He eventually decided to catch the train I was on but was quite upset when it sailed straight through Clapham Junction without any hope of stopping. Just as the indicator board had said.

I notice that Bob’s hotel is looking close to being finished.

As usual we started off at the Big Easy for a rum cocktail and a few songs from the band.

It was the usual Wednesday night band and the woman singing recognised us and called us regulars. It was probably because we’re the only ones who applaud.

Sadly the bar was infested by a large group of office types who were hell bent on annoying me. They succeeded.

There was a delightful if fleeting moment of revenge. A woman placed her glass on our table in order to show people something on her phone. She only turned away for a moment but that’s all the time the ever vigilant waitress needed.

The woman’s face was a picture of mystification as she searched pointlessly for her glass. She asked us but we just shrugged. She was not impressed while we were delightfully amused.

Happy, we descended to Sticks n Sushi and ate our fill, entertained by our French waiter while he practiced his English language skills.

And, as if I hadn’t had enough entertainment for the day there was a quite vocal drunk guy on the train sitting in front of me.

He kept trying to hurry the train on by repeating ‘come on, come on’ in an impatient rush. Very funny. Even funnier when, at Brookwood, he tried to open the wrong doors.

He then asked where Woking was. I told him he’s just missed it. He ended up getting off at Ash Vale so he could go back a couple of stops. He was not happy. He was even unhappier when the announcement came that people getting off at Ash Vale needed to be in the front eight carriages.

“And, of course, I’m not in one of the front eight carriages, am I,” He said as he rushed forward, bags in hand and now almost completely sober.

Another guy kept up a steady stream of snoring, which the drunk guy thought was hilarious. Until he missed Woking. Nothing was hilarious after that.

What a funny trip home it was.