10pm. We’re lying in bed. The European is playing Zelda on her Switch.
Me: So where did you go to eat tonight?
Her: A place called ‘Home’.
Me: What?
Her: It was called ‘My Old Place’.
Me: What food was it?
Her: I’m not doing this.
Me: Please. These posts are way more popular than my other ones.
Her: That’s sad.
Me: Make it less sad then. What food was it?
Her: Chinese food.
Me: Where was it?
Her: Near work (Liverpool Street).
Me: What was the vibe?
Her: Very good.
Me: Care to elaborate?
Her: It was homely, warm, and nice. The service was nice. It was a nice lady there.
Me: And what did you eat?
Her: I had fried chicken with chilli. (From outside by the river, we hear a man roaring). Oh god.
Me: And what else?
Her: Um, egg fried rice, and cucumber in (messes up Zelda), oops! Missed. Cucumber is spicy sesame oil or something.
Me: And what did your friend have?
Her: We shared.
Me: You said it was like a canteen?
Her: Yes.
Me: How much did you pay?
Her: About thirty-two for everything.
Me: And what did you have to drink?
Her: I had a Tsingtao and she had like a Chinese rice tea.
Me: What would you say to people who were thinking of going there?
Her: Enjoy.
Me: You’d recommend it?
Her: Yeah.
Me: Is there anything about it that makes it, I don’t know, unique or different?
Her: No.
Me: OK. And just because you’re clearly disassociating from this exercise, give me a nice long sentence that sums this place up.
Her: It’s a good place for Chinese.
Me: Very inciteful, thank you.
The food thing. 
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