There are 5 bars on 2 blocks, but I'm dressed like a clod - bottom half of one suit, top half of another - so can't enter any of them. I go back to the car to suckle a water bottle partly filled with scotch and start the drive home. Almost there, I feel very strong pangs of nostalgia. Is it the scotch? The Sefton Playhouse (on Clapham rd., negus!)? Or the kebab shop where D'oOley ate 2 family pides and a kebab to show Kadir that he was the biggest man in the best kebab shop in town.
I think it's D'oOley.
No comments:
Post a Comment