Brunch (well, beer and breakfast) at the Electric diner. Fun fact: John Christie used to work next door.
Taking The European for some Sri Lankan hair-of-the-dog.
Guildford Positano doesn’t have such incredible P.R. as ‘sexiest Italian restaurant in town’ or ‘kick-ass Sunday brunch’, but it does hit the mark by being a properly decent neighbourhood haunt.
The Coke side of life.
The menu – like the room – was very small and limited. It was causing an amusing degree of confusion with a party of five Americans sat next to us.
We needed to each drink six drinks a day to make the beverage package financially viable.
Great food, a great mate, great weather, in my favourite part of my favourite city. I wore my favourite pair of ripped jeans just for the occasion.