My friend, Warwick, turned 37 yesterday. We celebrated by turning up at Dave's house. Dave was still recovering from his back operation last week and had converted his dining room into a bedroom. The bed was precariously propped up on milk crates and a piece of wood (evidently there is a serious incline from the dining room leading into the kitchen, which may explain why I gravitated towards the kitchen when I first entered the house). Apart from the subsidence, it's a cosy little place with a high ceiling, fire place and a backyard chockablock full of amaranthus. We settled down into Dave's collection of funcky chairs and stools while we waited for Cass (Warwick's partner) to go and fetch us our pizzas from a nearby restaurant, which made me feel kinda bad especially considering that it was (a) cold and (b) Cass is pregnant.
Anyhow, Cass arrived back with the pizzas which turned out to be the bestest pizzas I had ever eaten. This was not the run-of-the-mill shit that comes from a chain store. No. This was gourmet pizza with fancy toppings like asparagus with goat's cheese, and smoked salmon with chilli. Yum.
Sat around afterwards enjoying the great conversation. Dave put on a recent CD featuring remixes by quirky band, "Architecture in Helsinki" which was (in my humble tone deaf opinion) better than the regular random clash of instruments that normally characterises their songs.
Lingered on a bit longer and then it was time to haul my ass 200 meters up the road to catch the train.
Pure satisfaction! This is what life is all about.
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