…. but wait, before we discuss Where’s me bike ? let’s first wonder Where’s me tea ? (that’s tea as in dinner not tea as in tea). I am sitting here on the couch with a rumbling tum and crashing sugar levels and Where’s me tea ? Le Chef has buggered off to Lundun for some meeting and left me to fend for myself. I wonder if I can hold out til he comes home at 9pm otherwise I’ll have to bloody cook something and boy am I sick of f**king courgettes and marrows. Hmmmm …. a takeaway me thinks.
But anyway … back to Where’s me bike ? Moi et Le Chef went for a very jolly jolly to Amsterdam this weekend. Twas most fun and involved eating Indonesian food while watching Le Chef pick out the peanuts (he’d get that anaphalactic shock thingie if he ate one), drinking beer, eating Maoz falafel (it is the best, bestest falafel ever and they even have an outlet in Barca now), drinking beer, wolfing the most huge amount of Mexican food ever and drinking margaritas .. oh yes and some shopping too. And of course no decriminalized drugs were partaken of . And neither did we visit the red light district . (Great I managed to wangle a sex angle to the post so can appropriately categ
orize it thus – surely my Google rating must be increasing).
On the way to the station I noticed a multi-storey bicycle park. How the hell do you find your bike ? All Dutch bikes look the same. If you shout at a Dutch bike, will it reply back ?