Leftovers

We spent most of the weekend with John's best friend I. and his wife, C.  They came over for dinner on Saturday night, and after catching up on the tennis (yay Wimbledon) we walked into town. After much debate, we went to Radhuni rather than the Italian place, since John & I both think that the Italian needs a few more weeks to work the kinks out.

We had a fab dinner, but there was quite a bit left over. To John's horror, I asked if they could box up the leftovers (they do takeout). They came out with a HUGE bag - it was the end of the evening and they said that they'd put in a few 'extras' for me. I'll say. Our original leftovers came to 2 small tubs, and there was extra saag with potatoes, chickpea curry, and veggies. Oh, and more rice. I had curry for lunch on Sunday and dinner on Monday, and probably would have had dinner on Tuesday but John pronounced the leftovers 'too old' and I threw them out. Granted, there wasn't much left by then, but still.

John's parents are SO paranoid about leftovers - and leftover rice is apparently something that guarantees an immediate and painful death. My family, on the other hand, will order Chinese takeout on a random Tuesday and then continue noshing on the leftovers (including the rice) until at least Friday. Maybe we all have v. strong immune systems. Or have been really lucky. Does anyone else share my inlaws' leftover paranoia? I just hate throwing away food (and love leftover curry!)

Oh, and I almost forgot - we'd asked the guys at Radhuni to call us a taxi to go home. It was about 11 and we didn't feel like schlepping up the hill. The head waiter came over to our table after about five minutes and said that the taxi company had said they would be an hour. An HOUR...in bloody Stowmarket!  Where did all the people come from? Anyway, we said that wasn't a problem - we'd just walk down to the station and pick one up from there, or failing that, suck it up and walk home. He said, "No, no, I have a car - I'll drive you!"  We protested but he insisted. And, hey, who are we to turn down a lift? Teehee. He got a nice tip, anyway.

As part of our I. and C. extravaganza weekend, we went over to their house to watch the Euro Cup final and have a Spanish-themed supper. V. tasty with some awesome sangria. They have a ping-pong table in their back yard, and I lost 6 games to C, a further 3 to I. and then one to John. It was the final one that I was most surprised about - I didn't even know he could play ping-pong and he's always telling me how bad his hand-eye coordination is. My grandma used to have a table in her basement and my brother and I would play for hours at a time, although I haven't spent much time playing outside. I blame my losses on the wind, the sun, and the fact that I think their table is about 6 inches too narrow. All my shots kept going off the back end of the table. Bah.

Since I obviously suck at ping-pong, it's good that I learned two new things at bells this week. We rang at Great Finborough again, and I raised the front 3 bells, then rang the treble through a touch of Plain Bob Doubles (first new thing) and then 'blew behind' (rang the tenor) for Plain Hunt on 5 (second new thing). I hadn't rung the tenor before - it's always the biggest bell and I hadn't thought I was ready for it. Well, apparently I am.