Saturday, 31 March 2012

Review - East India

The problem with having a blog is that everyone can read it. Well, clearly that's the point of it. But it poses great difficulty to me sometimes. For example, recently I've had lots of tangentially relevant crap to write about. But unfortunately couldn't in case people concerned (including but not limited to potential employers) came across it. Oh crap, I definitely just got on the train at the wrong end. And I had a full five minutes to figure out where the optimum place to board for platform positioning would've been. I'm on a commuter train typing this on my glorious iPhone you see. Because I've been very busy and important at an advertising firm for the past week. I hate commuting. It brings out the most vicious, selfish, territorial side of me. It's like taking part in a war which everyone is losing. My battle scars include a bruised toe from a stilettoing, a bloody, reinfected ear from an accidental (possibly on purpose) beating and self inflicted luggage wounds to the legs. Oh yeah, you know the unexplained bruises on my legs post Prague? (Did I even write about them here?) probably from my little legs taking a bashing from my equally little but much sturdier suitcase. At the end of the journey, there's free porridge if you make it in by nine. As if to say 'You made it. Others fell and were fed to the dogs but you made it.' (In my down time I've been reading loads about The Hunger Games.) Here's some porridge. Anyway, waking up before 7, going through this twice a day as well as actually working for at least eight hours has given me new found respect for commuters (particularly those with children), filled me with refreshed iPhone love and meant I've been going to bed at 10. It is the last two of that list of three that becomes relevant to the food I'll tell you about. I haven't been much good as company for the friend I've been staying with, you see. I tend to get in, bitch a bit, eat dinner and then play Draw Something with him until absurdly early bedtime. Then wake him up two hours before he'd like to be woken with my alarm. So after the fun of rum Wednesday, I was determined to be good company on my last night at his. So we went to East India restaurant in Surbiton.
I'll be honest with you, the food was average to poor. Well, it was a very uninspiring lamb tikka biryani but everything was still cooked reasonably well. Just no magic with the spices which is really what you expect from a Good indian. Oh and it was way under seasoned apart from the marinade which was way over seasoned. But who cares when it costs £10 including wine? Well, I care a bit. But I'm too exhausted to keep complaining. Now, how does the phone come into this? Well, after sending an entirely unnecessary Facebook message at the beginning of the meal, we decided to do the thing where you put your phones in the middle of the table and whoever reaches for it first, pays. Except then my companion pointed out that it's easy not to touch your phone when it's obscured by other phones. So we did it with them on the table next to us. I got three texts and a missed call over dinner but I didn't succumb. I did cover my companion in wine when he reached for my phone to read my text though. The warrior instinct has been entrenched.

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