The Home of the Baked Crab

Thought I’d better update this as I haven’t in a while, so to bring everyone back up to speed with my life I’ll start with the meaning of the title. My housemates and I live above a restaurant which we visited a few days ago for a meal. Chris went with Alice, Matt went with Laura, Tom went with Joanna, Luke went with Faith leaving the remaining flatmates; Geffy and I, who unfortunately lack a female partner. So we weren’t too enthusiastic about going. Needless to say we did go though and on Friday evening off we set: down the stairs leading to our front door, out of the front door, turn left and take the next door on the left. The Green Lizard, which boasts envious remarks on blackboards facing the window, like the “Home of the Baked Crab” awaited us. We were understandably hungry and thirsty from our long trek, so we got drinks and some pretty good food. Enviously, Matt plucked up the courage to order the baked crab, for which the restaurant is famous for. Unfortunately it was a bit too expensive for my meager allowances for the night, so I went with the cheaper steak pie. Due to them forgetting my side dish and after repeated attempts to attract attention the unability to order a replacement drink I cannot award them with full marks. The opportunity of sharing other people’s side dishes made up for that slightly. But anyway, I thought it was an ok meal, but nowhere near as good as the time before when I went there. However, the next day it was like the soul of the Green Lizard sensed my dissatisfaction with my meal the previous evening and wanted to punish me! No, I wasn’t ill at all, I was fine. However multiple times throughout Saturday I had to answer the door to people coming in, walking right through the door past me, wondering why our landing, which is full of steps didn’t look like a restaurant. I would feel that the people were even more stupid (more so than a large window next to our door, with a visible entrance to the restaurant door) because of the fact that they had to ring a doorbell to gain access to the would be restaurant that is our home. However, according to Luke there does exist in faraway places, restaurants with which you have to ring a doorbell to gain access. Ok fine, but it does suck that I live closest to the door and had to run down 2 flights of stairs around 3 times that day only to redirect people to the restaurant next door. One guy actually said “Oh!…Isn’t this the home of the baked crab?” Come on people, do I look like a baked crab?!!!! Really?!!! I wish I had said that to him now…

In other Yoghurt news: My individual presentation didn’t go too badly today, glad it’s over though, I do so hate presentations.

I owe Tesco an apology from “The Lord of the Chopsticks: The Fellowship of the Chopstick” post when I named and shamed it for not providing me with a replacement plate. I have recently been handed a ceramic plate from Tom which he claims to have bought from Tesco. Well, that’s not what the lady I asked had said. In fact, she said more to the effect of “We only sell those paper plates”. In fact, I think she owes me an apology more than I owe it to Tesco

Posted in Uncategorized | View Comments