The European stopped at a charity shop and got beaten to a Chinese tea set by the fastest old Chinese lady in the world. What a hipstery afternoon it was.
Because I would prefer to line HMRC’s pockets buying Italian food rather than American candy and Froot Loops.
“I’m not going to Five Guys again you fat unimaginative bastard. Take me to Eataly”
A restaurant where the lines of the uniform flow as graciously as the sequence of service.
Remnants of the Tartufo and sausage pizzas made for an exciting working-from-home lunch the next day.
“Ms. Galetti, it’s genuinely wonderful to meet you, but my pigeon is getting cold!”
“I would have wanted bigger portions”.
“Of course you would”.
God knows why they call it a tavern.
Full on, but in a good way.