At fours and fives.. and nines...

She says...

No, no you're wrong! I heard about Le Manoir positively years ago! *gets off high horse*

Anyway we've now roped in one lot of parents, setting them the task of finding a restaurant somewhere in Cheshire with five in the title for when we come up bearing gifts, Santa-stylee, before our trip to South America. Which means number four has to be between now and then... Decisions need to be made!

Another option for four that's come up in my google searches is this place - a Greek restaurant in central London called The Four Lanterns. Too similar to the Turkish belly dancing place in location and cuisine (what! cry all our Greek and Turkish followers in outrage - our food is as different as our debt crisises!) I think for us this time. Claiming to be near Madame Tussauds I'm more interested in its proximity to Urban Outfitters on Oxford Street, and am definitely going to bear it in mind for a cheap and cheerful after-shopping eatery.

Looking further down the timeline, I've come across this inviting looking place for future number nine. I could eat the herb crusted whatever-meat-it-is pictured on the home page right now in fact.


A good excuse for a jaunt to Stratford Upon Avon; it's been a, wrinkle-forming, long time since I numbed my bum watching Romeo & Juliet there whilst on a school trip. Be nice to refresh the progressively patchy memory.

The sinister side of organic food

He says...

Kat seems to have forgotten that it was I who told her about Le Manoir Aux Quat'Saisons, after a PR-type person (not for the restaurant, I hasten to add) informed me that they make amazing Sunday roasts entirely out of locally-sourced meat and vegetables.

However, I have recently discovered a more sinister side to organic food. On Sunday we went for lunch at our friends' house, where we sampled the vegetables that had been brought back from a parental garden in Wales. This included a disturbing conjoined carrot, with five twisted carrot-fingers growing from a sort of carrot-palm. It was similar to the gnarled right hand of The Elephant Man Joseph Merrick, and has haunted me a little ever since.

One benefit of the Chinese restaurant The Four Seasons is that at least the vegetables would be chopped into thin strips, utterly disimilar to the horrifically-deformed claw of a Victorian side show freak. But on the down side, I've already eaten there.

However, I'm intrigued by the Four O Nine in Clapham North. Apparently diners are required to buzz the doorbell then give their name before they are granted access, which is just how I imagine it works at the swingers' club up the road from our flat.