Hiccup

I don’t think I mentioned that Quinn is a Brewer. I mean, that is his profession. Yes, I am serious. You can see why pubs were so carefully woven into our visit with J & Q. On Tuesday evening we had dinner at Tortilla before enjoying a round at The York in Islington. Hiccup.

We had high hopes for baking in my one and a half butt kitchen after dinner and drinks, but somehow became distracted by ice cream and wine. Hiccup.

The tube strike may have thrown a wrench in the plans of the happy vacationers, but you wouldn’t know it by talking to them. I am guessing that traffic was horrendous for their double decker bus tour, but when is traffic not bad on the bus tour route in London?! They have recommended The Alpino in Angel Islington for a tasty breakfast, by the way.

Wednesday evening we met J & Q at Ye Olde Cheshire Cheese. (I wish they could have met Kerry and Emily in our basement spot!)

We supped on vegetarian pie, macaroni and cheese, and (un)spicy chicken.  If we had stayed for another round the bar tender had promised to let me pull the beer.  Hiccup.  Nah, I’ll have to pass.  The night ended earlier than I wanted – I knew that tomorrow morning would come all too soon and our friends would be flying home. But I was exhausted. Beyond exhausted, back to wired, and then exhausted again. I think we managed to giggle a little while longer back at the flat before the big crash.

Thursday was a flurry of breakfast at Piccolo Deli and hugs.  I didn’t cry until the doors closed on the lift.  I did look forward to sleeping in my bed again – it’s been 23 days – but I wanted my friends to stay more than I missed my room.  I wasn’t sure I was ready to be alone with my thoughts and I could think of a very long list of things we didn’t do or see.  Alas, round two of guests had come to an end.