The perfect balanced meal

I treated myself to masala fish from the not very local any more kebab house tonight.  It used to be our local friendly kebab house but then we moved.  Still went there from time to time though until it burnt down.  Didn't go for ages whilst it was shut (well d'uh) but last Friday decided to go back for the first time in a couple of years. Everyone in our house enjoys a kebab and I am particularly partial to masala fish, if you are not familiar with such a delicacy, I implore you to hunt out Khan's Kebabs in Barton Street, Gloucester, part with four quid and enjoy.  We hadn't had one for ages so imagine my excitement.  Then imagine my massive deflation as we bump into kebab house man (imagine the super hero that DC comics could make out of that one) around the corner with a big bright orange van outside the shop.  What's going on you may ask?  I certainly did.  The buggers are closed again, albeit a little more temporarily this time, because of an electric fault.
So, it turns into a Monday night treat; and so to my theory.

You have a good sized chunk of fish and we're always told to eat more fish, although for the sake of my argument let's ignore the fact that it may be a little deep fried.  It is served in a nan bread so there's your carbohydrates.  Then, you add salad, that has to be at least three of your five-a-day that we are evangelised towards. Add a portion of chips and they're made out of potato and that's another vegetable.

Which reminds me of another take away experience from a couple of years ago.  I was staying for the week at an hotel just by Aldgate East tube station whilst attending a course.  Tina joined me at the weekend and, being the die hard romantic that's when we got engaged.  Anyway, back to the story - you know how I hate to digress.  Always straight to the point, can't be doing with unnecessary waffle.  After all, digressing is only superseded in the time wasting stakes by procrastination.  I have thought about procrastination but it needs longer to consider.
Aldgate East is either a) East end of London or b) Downtown Beirut, you choose.  It is also a stones throw from Brick Lane where I went for a take away at a Bangldeshi place.  I went in to a moderately busy place and ordered something.  Waiting for the order I got chatting.  You know the sort of thing, weather, where you from etc.  The conversation is cut across from the proprietor:
"Hey stranger"
"Mmmm.  Me?"  I whimper.  Has your heart ever sat quite so high in your throat?
"Yea you"
"Mmm"  My lower bowel is proper active now.
"You like Bhaji?"  That's it.  You scare the shit out of me to ask if I like an oniony starter?
I answer in the affirmative.
"You try my Bhajis my friend": he passes a bhaji across the counter.
"You like pakora?"
I'm quite enjoying this now, although with the amount of free samples, dinner does have less room.
Eventually my food is served, I bid a cheery farewell back to the hotel.

With all good intentions a day or two later, I decide on a return journey.  Sadly however, this time the place is swarming with police.  Less good idea tonight.

The results are in...

It's taken me ages to write this blog.  As my regular readers and friends will be aware, I didn't pass my first attempt at the driving instructor part two test.  On the first of March, I retook the test and passed.  Hurrah, cause for celebration and all that.

That's it.  That could be the end of the blog.  When you fail something it becomes a talking point.  What did you fail on?  When are you going to retake?  Most of the answers you could just record and replay.

Then there are the platitudes.  "I'm sure you'll do better next time", "Never mind, the best drivers pass second time", "Well, they've got their allocation they must have passed enough already".  All of course are a complete horses arse and have no basis in truth.  Still, that's the joy of a well aimed platitude, why let the truth get in the way of a good cliché?


But no.  I passed.  No questions, no platitudes, just celebration.  But that's not it.  After the test is over you sit in the car with the examiner who is now your best friend and he still insists on tearing you to shreds.  Although in my case, he probably has a point.  You may remember (or know) that to pass the instructor part two there is a maximum of six minor faults.  failed test, I had seven (d'oh), passed test, wait for it.... SIX.  So he tears me to shreds, or rather, gives me the debrief.


"Lets start with your reverse park"
"Crap wasn't it?"  I know I can reverse park and I can do it well.  However for my test I made a complete hash of it.
"Not how I would put it, but essentially, yes"  That accounts for two points.  It would be difficult to get more points for a single manoeuvre.
"You were too close to the maroon car on the motorway.  You weren't going fast enough on the approach to the roundabout.  You should have overtaken the other car etc, etc, etc"  And so it went on.


"But I've passed?"
"Yes"


It took as long to talk about my relative failings when I passed as it did when I didn't.  If you get what I mean.


Still, as I write today, it could be much worse.  A friend of mine who was scheduled to take it today was turned away.  The instructors were on strike.  That sucks.