Family Time: Last Supper in the UK

So like I said before, I went home and begged and pleaded and nagged all four of my very tired, very not-hungry grandparents to change out of the pajamas and into street clothes and come back out with me to have a proper dinner before they all went home the next morning. And after about…well, really not that long, just a bit of pouting and “please”s, they all relented, and we ended up here:

It was this tiny little takeout place just one street down. My dad and I went first to figure out where we would go, as it was almost ten o’clock at night and the only places open catered to people with drinking problems and the below 25 crowd, and we ended up turning down some slightly sketchy side road, because that’s where the cheapest places are. And when we walked to this place, the girl inside behind the counter full of sesame chicken and sweet and sour pork looked at me and went, “Oh, you’re back!!”

And like any normal person, I went, “Uh. I really haven’t been here before.”

And she goes, “No, you have, I remember you!”

And I went, “Heh…okay then…”

And then, she went, “Oh! I remember you from the other restaurant! You have a dimple!”

Ooooh yeah. We went to a noodle place when we were in London the first time around, but that was all the way in Leicester Square, and certainly not this shoddy takeout place in Paddington. But I was in a poopy mood that day (I don’t remember why, surprisingly, I might’ve really wanted a McDonald’s sundae. Which I got. But I got the wrong one. Instead of a Cadbury Egg Creme one I ended up with a Cadbury one and it made me even more moody. Sue me, I’m like a toddler). Everyone at that restaurant was really nice, though. Really friendly. And then one of the guys asked me for my number on my way out.

-_-

Maybe that’s why I remember.

Anyway, yeah, she remembered me and I had no idea who she was and it was mildly embarrassing, but no big deal.

On to the food? :D


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