A harrowing weekend

Actually, the entire weekend wasn’t harrowing just a little bit of it on Saturday night.

On Friday we just went out with friend to Ganapatifor South Indian food.  I had the Mini Fish Thali and the Crab Thoran as a starter and it was delicious.

On Saturday we gardened, a lot.  I separated out our sad looking Rainbow Chard and transplanted our Chives and Basil from the window boxes we’d had them in.  Jeremy replaced them in the window boxes (which are on the ledge of our bathroom window which is upstairs) with some Lavender, flowering thyme and Catmint.  I had to chase Oliver away from the Catmint a lot. Then while Jeremy pruned one of our trees and chopped up the branches to be burned this winter I planted a new set of chard plants, 2 courgette plants (that’s zucchini for the North Americans and Italians), 3 Aubergine (Eggplant), 5 curly leaf kale plants, and 3 rhubarb plants.  I tied the pumpkin and tomatoes to stakes and pruned the tomatoes a little bit.  And then I started doing some dead vine clean up as well, all the while hunting for worms to add to the vegetable beds and containers in order to give some extra nutrients to our crops.  We’re thinking of looking for some corn plants to put in containers next, and maybe some beans to go with them.

After gardening we showered and met a friend in Whitechapel at Tayyabs for delicious Pakistani food.  They do this pumpkin dish that makes me very very very very very happy.  Then it was on to Stratford for a friend’s 30th birthday party.  We got to her building and ran into another friend on the way into the building, so the 4 of us trooped onto the lift together and headed up to the fifth floor.  Only to be stopped short just as the number in the lift screen changed to 5.  There was a lurch and a loud noise and then a very polite disembodied voice informed us that the lift was broken and not to panic.  I immediately realized that I really needed to use the toilet.

We rang the alarm button and Jeremy called the friend who’s party we were attending, she laughed and hung up.  He texted her back saying “No we’re really stuck in the lift.”  Meanwhile the friend we’d run into on the way in was talking to the operator on the emergency phone.  He promised to call an engineer and told us to call him back in five minutes.  We all made noises that sounded like this (GAAH!) and waited.  I really needed to use the toilet but did my best not to hop around.

While we were waiting we heard the dulcet tones of the birthday girl shouting “Huhlloo!” from the other side of the door and were able to deduce that we were not actually that far from the floor.  After waiting for what felt like forever but was actually closer to five minutes we called the operator back and he said the following.  “Well, the engineer is on his way, but unfortunately, he lives on the other side of London so it may take about an hour.” And we all went “GAAH!” again. To which the operator replied, “Listen I’m not supposed to tell you this but if you call the fire brigade, they’ll get you out a lot quicker.” So he hung up and we shouted to the birthday girl, “Call the fire brigade, call the fire brigade!”

So she called the fire brigade and we looked around for escape hatches, there were none visible, and other possible means of escape.  Finally we figured out that if Jeremy and the birthday girl both pushed the center bit of the door at the same time they might actually be able to get it open, and happily they were!  The floor of the lift was about 6 inches below the floor of the hallway so we grabbed our bags of beer and hopped out as fast as we could.  The fire brigade was called and told not to bother, but we didn’t call the engineer as the lift still needed fixing.  I ran to the flat we were headed to and straight into the happily free bathroom.  All together, I think we were only stuck for about 15 minutes but it felt like a lot more.

After staying at the party for about 5 hours we took the stairs on our way out.  It just seemed like the best idea.  Jeremy went on to a second party in Peckham where he made a stranger uncomfortable with his unorthodox dance moves (this happens more often to us than I imagine it happens to other people) and I drank some beers and talked to a very nice Glaswegian who Jeremy introduced as being “rad as hell.” Jeremy was drinking cider and had become prone to hyperbole as well as inappropriate dance moves at this point.

At around 3:30 we walked home as the birds started waking up and the sky began to lighten, I still can’t get used to the short nights of an English summer.  I should probably stay far away from Norway in the summer as well.

On Sunday we slept in late and ate bagels for breakfast before cleaning up the garden some more (I made slug traps using plastic containers and beer) and then we barbecued and had a dinner of Bruschetta with two kinds of toppings (slow-roasted tomatoes and a mushroom apple mascarpone topping) stuffed peppers and some homemade veggie burgers made with Parmesan, beans and bread crumbs.

It was a nice weekend and I’m very glad we made it out of the small metal box as quickly as we did.



Filed under dorking it up, garden

2 responses to “A harrowing weekend

  1. Wow, what an adventure! Glad you made it out safely (and without peeing yourself).

    I, too, know the special feeling of being married to a man whose dance moves sometimes perplex and annoy the uninitiated. It’s part of his charm, though. Plus, it’s better than being married to one of those wallflowers who thinks he’s too cool to dance.

  2. That is my biggest fear. The fact that you made it sound like madcap fun makes me question your judgment.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s