Another day without the interweb or, rather, without the Virgin (fastest broadband service in the UK) team managing to fix the problem with the Neath server.
We went to the Greater Swansea retail/industrial park this morning, getting lost on the way back of course and, I’m ashamed to say, exchanging cross words in the car.
It all got fixed, apart from the Virgin service, whose last word before turning the service over to the night-time ‘help’ team in India was that they were hoping for a resolution “some time tomorrow”.
“Oh well,” said Graham. “Would you prefer a mild curry or a hot one?”
“Hot, please. Hotter the better.”
“Don’t say you weren’t warned,” and off he trolled to take his spite and hatred of Virgin Media out in to the kitchen, invent something hot and spicy involving lots of pans, much steam, and a bottomless glass of chilled white wine.
An hour later I was munching happily through a dish of chicken jal frezi(sp?) with extra frezi and a lot of extra hot stuff, courtesy of Graham’s new Indian curry book. Steam was venting from Graham’s ears and his face was turning an alarming shade of deep red.
“Are you alright?” I asked.
“Mmmphhhhhaaahaaahaaah!”
“That’s impressive. You’re getting quite fluent in curry-speak.”
“Mmmphhhhhaaahaaahaaa!”
Graham thinks it most unfair that there’s no such thing as a curry that’s too hot for me.
