I have not fallen into the trap whilst living in L.A. for the desire to hang out in English pubs and do all that is supposed to remind one of all that great and British.
I am living here out of choice after all, and nothing substitutes the real thing.
However there are some traditions that cross cultures and a few drinks followed by fish and chips which seem to be appreciated by both sides of the pond, albeit with a slight twist.
Here goes…
London style…Sunday evening.
- A Bloody Mary at The Cow in Notting Hill followed by some red wine, some more red wine and then just a bit more to be sure.
- A walk to the taxi rank if no black cabs swing by which is unfortunately right next to the fish and chip shop.
- A few ‘gosh I am so funny’ bantering moments, only I am the only one talking and a ‘I will spit on your chips if you do not shut up” server. I shut up.
- Taxi home , couch , tv, bed. Done.
Mailbu style….Friday day.
- My friends (10 of us) turn up and we transfer onto bicycles whilst fitting the new arrival mini pooch into a basket and fit beers and bottles of rose into the others.
- Sit basking in the sunshine at the marina drinking our beers (yes illegal...shock, horror) waiting for our hosts to arrive.
- We board the yacht, open the rose and zip along, enjoying the open water dolphin watching.
- We take pictures of the lucky pup's first yacht experience...I know.
Now the original plan did not include the yacht, as were just going to Malibu Seafood where my good friends supply all the cutlery, plates, table cloths, condiments, wine glasses etc.. as they only have picnic tables facing out to the ocean. The fish is sold at a little shack and you wait for your number to be called, and VOILA...the most amazing fish. I go for the halibut.
The yacht was a last minute bonus, that does not tend to happen when you live in Kensal Green, London. A last minute bonus is a friend picking you up instead of the number 18 bus. I never drink and drive.
We have all now been drinking at quite a pace, and one of the gang has a limousine, so unbeknown to us, we had a limo waiting for us at the Marina to take us to get our fish and chips...only this being California, so we have fish and baked potatoes.
We all load into the stretch limo making numerous stops along the way collecting even more rose and bottles of champagne.
We arrive fully loaded in more ways than one at the fish shop, armed with far too much alcohol and take over one of the picnic sections. My apologies now to anyone sat near us.
Much munching, laughter and consuming with an impromptu soiree back at their Malibu pad facing right onto the ocean, yes, one of those places you see in Cribs or that fake reality TV show. You know the one, and yes, it really is fake.
The limousine drops me off home. I am so L.AAAAAAAAAAA….
Okay, secretly looking forward to a bag of chips when I get back home to York at Christmas.
