Laser Death Pizza Extravaganza

I have been to hell and it is in Croydon. All right, perhaps I exaggerate, but not a lot. On Saturday we had Matty's 10th birthday party which was held at the Laser Quest franchise in the Colonnades on The Purley Way. From the outside the building looks like a rather bland office block but inside it is designed to resemble a Mississippi steamboat, I kid you not. The steamboat illusion does not pass deep inspection and is soon revealed to be mostly a front for an extremely noisy amusement arcade replete with the latest shoot-'em-up games called things like Zombie Killer 4 and Death Jungle Zone 3. Each game comes with at least one machine gun and absolutely no volume control. Interspersed with the death dealing mayhem machines were driving games that gave very little consideration to the highway code called Death Racer VII or Mission Road Kill X or such like. Also dotted around the Stygian hall were several non-working pool and air-hockey tables serving primarily as surfaces for teenagers to lounge against and as anti-wheelchair obstacles. The thermostat was set to 'boil blood' level but they economised by having the lighting set at a level that required an infra-red night scope to see more than a few murky feet. Along one side of the arcade was the Laser Quest zone where groups of identical looking pre-teens loitered whilst awaiting their turn to dispense laser justice upon each other.

Matty and his micro-army of 9 laser armed friends vanished into the kill-zone to enact Armageddon while I hunted vainly for a cup of coffee. Eventually I took refuge in the party room we had reserved and was at last able to have a conversation that did not require shouting over the death throes of machine gunned zombies. After an hour or so Matty's army retired from the battlefield to devour hot-dogs and relive successful ambushes. Oh to be 10 again.

On Monday it was Matty's actual birthday and we took him (and Sam, obviously) out for tea. You put your taste-buds in the lap of the gods when you let a 10-year-old choose the restaurant you dine in, so it was with a sense of 'it could have been worse' that I trundled into Pizza Hut. I am not a huge fan of Pizza Hut so I was pleasantly surprised to find on the menu some relatively interesting looking Tuscani style pizzas. I settled on the Pollo Portobello with the “thinnest, lightest, crispiest pizza base” and “recipes inspired from the heart of Italy.” Perfecto! Unfortunately Matty had been swayed by the advertising that induced him to try a pizza surrounded by “a ring of 28 individual doughy bites bursting with cheese.“ Such a divine culinary experience only comes with pizzas the size of truck tyres and so he pleaded with me to share a vast meat-feast deep pan pizza. I closed my menu with a small sigh and said that I'd be delighted to share. It was his birthday after all and considering the years of pleasure he has given me it was a tiny sacrifice. As he sat, grinning from ear to ear, chewing on peperoni flavoured stringy bits, he thanked us for taking him out to 'a posh restaurant'. Is it any wonder I love him?

PS - Only have the ring of 28 individual doughy bites bursting with cheese if you enjoy cheesy flavoured chewing gum.

Until next time.

Hand Fed

Yesterday afternoon I went to the cinema with my friend Stewart. We went to see Push, a film about group of people with 'special' abilities, including telekinesis, psychometry and seeing into the future (precognition). I hadn't seen any publicity about the film so didn't know what to expect. What we got was cleverly plotted, well acted (Dakota Fanning is especially good), and confusingly exciting story with some great set-piece special-effects. The film ends on a cliffhanger so I presume a sequel is on the Zener cards.

After the film was over, Stewart and I went to get a burger and have a chat. We ended up in Burger King where we both ordered Bacon Double Cheese Burgers. I tell you this mind numbingly banal detail because of what happened next. Try as I might I was unable to raise the burger to my mouth. I had chosen the Bacon Double Cheese Burger because it is not stuffed full of lettuce, tomato and various drippy, sticky sauces destined to fall out of the burger and down my jumper. Even so it remained resolutely unpickupable, let alone eatable. I tried a French-fry instead. By pushing my right elbow awkwardly into the corner of the table and twisting by body like an arthritic contortionist I managed to get the tip of the longest one between my lips and was able to suck it into my mouth like a strand of chippy spaghetti. So far so good; 1 French-fry = 1 minute. It was a good job Burger King stays open 'til late.

Fortunately Stewart understood my predicament and casually offered to help. Torn between the humiliation of being fed in public and going hungry I went with humiliation. Pride goes out the door when you've skipped lunch. Stewart held up the burger while I nibbled at it like a donkey at a petting zoo.

In case you think I'm wallowing self pity I'd like to say in my defence that this was the first time I'd been fed in public by anyone other than Polly. It couldn't have happened with a nicer person than Stewart who acted as if it were the most natural thing in the world to hand feed your friend in a public restaurant, but it does mark yet another stepping stone in the deterioration of my condition. On the plus side, I didn't go hungry and nobody in Burger King objected or even appeared to notice.

So, thanks Stewart.

In The Post

Polly and I are back from our anniversary lunch. We went to The Post Restaurant in Banstead, Surrey. It is a converted post office, all white walls and abstract art, owned by 'TV Chef' Tony Tobin. Polly had baked haloumi cheese on a mixed salad with lemon oil and balsamic dressing, followed by smoked haddock risotto. I had spaghettini pasta with tiger prawns, crab, chilli, ginger and garlic, followed by Steak and Guinness pie served with fresh seasonal vegetables, creamy mashed potato and gravy. We were too full up to contemplate a dessert.

I would love to be able to relate a hilarious and wrath causing tale of poor access and uncivil staff, but unfortunately the restaurant has ramped access and a large level dining area. The staff were completely unfazed by the wheelchair. They even offered, unbidden, to supply a drinking straw with my orange juice. Perfect? Well yes, except that I managed to inhale a flake of crab and spent the meal desperately trying not to cough. So romantic.

Thank God she loves me.

World Class

It is a Bank Holiday here in the UK and therefore (at least here in Surrey) the weather is typically grim. The sky is a milky white, as if some one has sealed us in with a Tupperware lid, and there is a fine drizzle alternating with driving rain and a high wind. Fortunately we hadn't organised a barbecue. Instead we headed for Wing Yip, a local Chinese restaurant to meet up with some friends, Rob and Carolyn and their 8 year old son. The restaurant is part of a complex that includes a Chinese supermarket where, if you lack anything better to do, you can gaze at tankfuls of lobsters, catfish and eels. It's like visiting a free aquarium. In the restaurant we ordered all sorts of exciting dim sum and things in rice and noodles. I made no attempt to use the chop sticks since I didn't want to go hungry.

I was talking to Rob about writing this blog and saying proudly that it was being read in quite a few countries around the world including India, Hong Kong and Australia according to the clever people at Google Analytics. Rob, I'm glad to say, said he regularly read the blog, usually when he was at work. And then it dawned on me, Rob is an airline pilot. Guess which countries he regularly flies to. Sigh.

So, if you are reading this outside of the UK, and you are not an international airline pilot keeping passengers waiting at the airport while you browse the internet, then do reassure me and email me or leave a comment. You can't all be Rob.