Oh dear. It was absolutely vile and cold last night, but despite this I had undertaken to have dinner at the Bengal Tiger in Carter Lane. Good to have my mobile back to actually find the place which was quite difficult. Oddly I had never been near St. Paul's Cathedral before and was pleased to see Paul's Walk, referred to in Dekker's Gulls Hornbook.
Anyway, there were masses of people assembling and I went to the first sitting, being a lightweight in the sense (only) of liking early nights. Started with lamb tikka, which was very good indeed, followed by chicken biryani, again very good. And only £12 including service. I met a chap who teaches architecture and interior design, a guy who runs a fashion company designing accessories, two translators and two property owners who live from their rents and sales. One of them is a champion rower of world class, apparently. Certainly looked fit enough. One guy lived in Southwark, near Tower Bridge. They were all interesting and seemed very nice, so I had a very enjoyable evening, managing to get back by around ten (having started at six).
The bad news was getting on the scales this morning to discover I had managed to gain three pounds during the week. I am not entirely surprised by this. I suspect the cantuccini I have eaten with coffee and tea have contained many more calories than marked on the package and I have been eating far too much in the evenings. Time to rein this in. Must try harder, as my school reports used to say.
Today it is absolutely pissing with rain, as I discovered when the Kookster walked over me at around 5.45am, brushing his cold, soaking tail all over my face. A rude awakening for a Sunday.
Madeleine is due over later, and we shall eat chicken. My dietary penance starts tomorrow instead of today.
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