Just when we thought Saturday night couldn't get any worse, Crazy Homies came to the rescue. After waiting in the rain for hours and hours for a table at a Mexican restaurant, I finally found something to fill the Pepe's-shaped-hole in my life. Pepe's, for the uninitiated, was the Mexican restaurant where I practically grew up. Cheap, cheerful and my employer for a good five years, it pretty much single-handedly kept me and my student mates alive throughout university. Years and years later, I still crave Mexican on a weekly basis. (In fact, after looking forward to a Mexican dinner all day on Saturday, Erin spotted the washing up and texted me a suspicous message: 'Did you have Mexican for lunch?' 'Just avocado and cheese' I replied meekly).Anyway, Crazy Homies took us in when no-one else would, sodden and grumpy and in dire need of elderflower margaritas. And it gets better - Nick Cave lives upstairs when in London and apparently eats (or, assumedly, drinks) at Crazy Homies four nights a week. I knew he was classy. I have a feeling it will become a recurring feature in our lives. Once upon a time, Mr Cave did me a great kindness (well it seemed that way for a misfit teenage girl) and so I would love to buy him a burrito to say thanks.
Meanwhile I also went to visit old friend Lachlan in Oxford where we dined genteely upon scones and clotted cream at the university (one of the elderly attendants told us the scones were left over from the floods last week, we weren't quite sure if he was joking or not). Lachie, being an athlete, gave me a brisk walking tour of the town so at least I probably walked off most of the scones. And fish and chips. And burger. And ice-cream. And Crazy Homies.
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