Jill arrived to pick up the dogs.
I made her a cup of tea, and she got settled on the couch, lay back with her feet up, and wasn't in any hurry to leave, which was fine with me, it was nice to see her.
She's been on a cruise with unlimited food for 2 weeks and she visibly had trouble getting up off a couch, when it was time to head out for a meal. I watched as she struggled, it was kind of eye opening. I felt every gasp, every groan, every wince, and finally she was up. And I exhaled, let out the breath I didn't even realise I was holding in until that moment.
We went out for Japanese.
We sat opposite a couple of beefy gay boys enthusing about the food. Actually, just one was enthusing about the food, the cute/chubby one with the nice voice, smile and way about him.
We ate karaage chicken for entre, 2 serves, we weren’t exactly sure of the portion size, well that is how Jill justified it. We all eat too much.
Jill ate tempura. Sam ate sober noodles. I ate vegan mushroom soba noodles, which, I have to say, need a good handful of salt thrown in.
We all ate Matcha ice cream for dessert, Jill insisted.
Smith Street was really busy, lots of people sitting outside eating. All the tourists.
We came home and drank tea and talked American politics. We talked about how awful Meaghan the whatever of Sussex is.
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