Wine, What.
I spent the day in London at the weekend celebrating the boyfriends 25th Birthday. We galavanted around and had much fun, although how the fuck anyone actually lives in London is beyond me.
ANYWAY. I took to him to a nice, sort-of-semi-posh (is that even a term?) restaurant, which was all hunky dory.
There were, however, PROBLEMS.
My first problem arose when it came to remembering what that fancy fucking word for a decanter of wine was, after a bit of monging in front of the waitress I discovered it was a CARAFE.
My second problem was when she bought the wine over and poured a small drop in my glass. I swear everything from that point onward happened in slow motion. It must have taken me a couple of seconds to realize, with the waitresses eyes boring into my face and the birthday boy watching on, in what I’d imagine was great amusement. I went for the glass, whilst my brain was screaming “OH GOD, EVERYONE’S WATCHING. SHOULD I SWIRL IT AROUND!? DO I SNIFF IT? WHAT DO I SAY?”
Oh London. I’m more of country girl, people just shove my wine in a glass normally! Seems a little unnecessary.
