I was really looking forward to a hot takeaway curry last night. I mean REALLY. I’d justified it by dressing it up as a ‘lets get labour started’ trick, but really I was just hankering for one.
I have been dreaming about juicy king prawns, hot madras sauce, greasy bhajis and warm chapatis for DAYS. Is there anything better for the soul than a takeaway on a friday night? I think not, my friends.
So, imagine my very real distress when they ballsed up the order and sent us two prawn madras instead of my one king prawn madras.
Oh the humanity <sob>. I was perilously close to actual tears, I won’t lie.
I sat and ate bahjis and watched everyone else eat their delicious and correct curries while we waited for the (very contrite) restaurant bod to come and replace my miserable teeny tiny flavourless prawn curry for my FAT king prawn extravanza.
Fortunately he arrived before hysteria set in. And all was right with the world again.
But it was a close run thing.