The man and I have a number of Aunts living in London. Historical reasons I suppose, the war and all sent them to India and then they scattered all over the UK. The man's got some family here and so have I. No, we don't stay with them each time we're in town. We like our own space and will either stay at the flat or at a hotel. Much easier to negotiate. We might do an overnighter just because some live out in the country and it's a little cumbersome to make the trains after dinner or do night drives.
My Aunts have summoned me to visit because they're embarking on a new journey and a shift in their careers. I will not be able to see them at all. It'll be quite suicidal to fly in for a vacation. Nobody goes there for fun. Death will be very real in their paths. I'm actually in awe of their determination to do this. I'm not sure if I've what it takes to walk their chosen path. I'd like to, some day. As they've put it, "If we die sometime in the next 2 years, and you refuse to come and see us, don't regret it."
So we're here, and being force-fed bean soup. Heheheh. It was quite nice, with the macaroni. Honestly, a huge bowl of bean soup was enough to fill me up and I didn't need those fusili and broccoli with sausage bits lurking within. High carb count alert! But after following them around on the volunteer beat for 4 hours, I needed the carbs man. It's been a while since I felt hungry like that. So I ate and ate and ate. The Aunts shrugged and said these were the easiest thing to cook and warm the tummy.
The man likes the chicken in London. He isn't sure if the free range thing works, but it seems to be so. He says it's tasty. I TOLD YOU IT DOESN'T STINK. Hey, the 'organic' Empress chicken Meidi-ya stocks taste better than those dumbdumb touted as 'kampung' chicken in the supermarkets! But I still don't want to eat chicken here, no matter how tasty it can be, roasted or otherwise. I've been off meat for so long that there's no reason for me to eat it anymore.