Restaurants

Alas, half-term is over, my son is back at school, and I have the house back to myself during the day. Oh, how I miss him, or would do if I wasn’t so thrilled to get rid of the pesky old so-and-so. Oh dear, school today, I said on the first morning while pushing him out of the door, double-locking it from the inside and drawing the bolt. I did think about quickly moving while somehow forgetting to leave a forwarding address but then realised it would mean packing and that would be too boring for words. Still, it’s not as if I can forget him entirely during the day, as there appears to be a deadly smell emanating from his room. How best to describe it? It’s sort of like cheese mixed with old socks and BO and Monster Munch (pickled onion) and Lynx, the last being the most singularly deadly of all. I think if you were to bottle it and sell it as Parfum de Teenage Boy you would almost certainly be guaranteed to make no money whatsoever. You may wish to also throw in mud and wet dog, as there is quite a lot of that about too.

Anyway, on the eve of his return, I offer to take him and his friend out to eat. This, I agree, is nice of me but, in their defence, just-teenage boys aren’t that bad so long as you breathe through your mouth and invest in one of those litter-grabbing implements so that you can pick up dirty clothes and shin-pads at arm’s length. Such devices are also useful for extracting half-eaten mouldy things from trouser pockets, and bits of furry sandwich from school bags. Whatever, we decide we will try the new Vietnamese in Crouch End, which has already generated a great deal of local excitement.