Resto 35 Le Mercury, Islington
Good food followed by an hour of Trotskyite propaganda delivered with all the charm of a carriage full of soccer hooligans beating up your grandma.
Good food followed by an hour of Trotskyite propaganda delivered with all the charm of a carriage full of soccer hooligans beating up your grandma.
The Marais has some jewels - especially the Musée de la Chasse et Nature (also bereft of vittles) - but you have to pay for them in the tedium of expensive crapshops, chainshit and a swarm of arseholes, some on scooters.
Kudos to the guy in the Uruguayan rugby shirt for surprise outfit of the day.
We took the salad of the day and a big planche of cheese with a couple of glasses of Chablis on the side. The salad turned out mostly to be pesto-stirred pasta with a few bits of veg secreted within. Palatable but not exactly what we were looking for. The cheese on the other hand was five varieties of the runny shiznit with a generous helping of rustic bread alongside - definitely a better option. The wine was too warm.
With excellent service throughout and design that shows a close attention to detail Irvin is a very happy-making place.
Our go to pre-Almeida place is usually Radici but this week we fancied a change. La Petite Auberge is only marginally more distant from the theatre and at six on a Tuesday there was plenty of room inside, and given the state of traffic on Upper Street a pavement table wasn’t especially alluring. The room…
The cast for A Soldier's Song is announced!
A post announcing my next theatre collaboration, working with director Victoria Welsh to put on aproduction of Marivaux's 'Les Fausses Confidences' in a new, original, translation with the Crouch End Players.
Great pizza, bored staff, tedious customers.
Good food, poor choices. I have to say that eating tête de veau isn't something I'll do again in a hurry. The meaty bits were ok but the gluey bits were ... gluey.