Local hero

TSM and I have been buying curry sauces and samosa off of Anila for over fifteen years since the days when she had a stall in the local community hospital where we both worked; her jars have turned up in all sorts of places including Harrods over the years and she recently won a string of awards for producing clean food. She recently went vegan so we had a little chat about that; her stall was on an otherwise meaty and dairy farmer’s market in Guildford High Street, although I did bag a vegan arrancini and run my fingers over an overpriced organic cucumber or two.

I needed a bit of love after a difficult morning at work, but something must have got me fired up as I was working like a demon in the afternoon, my good natured forked tail swishing with every email I sent. Think Hellboy meets NHS management on speed and you will get an idea of how deep in the productivity groove I was.

I also went to the health food shop and bought some outrageously expensive vegan cheese - eight quid for something the size of a fifty pence piece - but I’m a sucker for something new and it if tastes as good as it looks it might be worth its weight in gold (which it probably is).

Despite my faux claims of sore feet and aching limbs there was no one to pick me up from the station at the end of the day so I went to a wine bar and drank a couple of hearty glasses of very nice dry white. If you have something to do - like writing this blog - being the saddo in the corner with his drink isn’t sad at all, and I always enjoy a bit of people watching. Plus the waiter was a tall and charming black bloke from Brittany who was an absolute delight on the service front. I do love talking to people about where they come from. It’s a small world even if the small minds of the Brexiteers won’t admit it.

On which front I am delighted that the House of Lords have poked another bunch of Swiss cheese style holes in Theresa May’s plans. The whole bloody thing is denegerating into farce. I no longer care whether we leave the EU or not, we have sealed our reputation as the narrow minded offshore savages of Western civilisation as surely as if Boudicca had come back from the dead and rolled her chariot up to the front door of the Eurostar terminal in King’s Cross with “Down With Rome” on the end of a spear.

Anila’s curry sauces aren’t just food to me they are a symbol of everything I value - a big smile, a world where origins matter less than behaviours, and a long term commitment to a better world.

I’ll drink to that.