Lunchtime Capers

My Dear Fellow,

Today I met Er Indoors on Rutland Street to get some documents notarised over lunchtime. Basic identity establishment stuff - copies of bills etc. The stuff we had submitted with my visa application last year was now out of date.

So that's it. The pack is now complete (again) and ready to go (again) so let us hope for better results (this time).

It was nice meeting Er Indoors for lunch, but obviously did not go as I had hoped. I took her to Pret because there is nothing I love more than Pret food. Well, perhaps the delightful laughter of small children, sunshine and world peace.

No, actually all those things can eff off. Just give me a Pret toastie and a Love Bar. I'm a shallow man.

But anyway. Er Indoors was not having it. "Why don't you have a tuna melt?" I suggested helpfully. "It probably has CAPERS in it," said Er Indoors darkly. She found a caper in a Pret salad once and has been traumatised ever since. She sniffed at some of their other wares and then informed me she was going to "the cheapo sandwich shop". It may not be the best quality, but at least you know you are not going to be ambushed by capers or quinoa.

So I was left on my own. Funnily enough, I bumped into a lady who used to serve me all the time in the Pret on Hanover Street. She left there the very same day I left Slack Investments. I remember I bought her some cupcakes to celebrate our new freedom but here she was again, behind the counter in a smock.

"I'm back," she said. "There's no escape."

She's right of course. I can't get away from Pret either. Capers or no capers. Damn them.

El P.