Those of you who under the age of 40 who have seen Murder on the Orient Express would imagine that any travel to Paris in pre-Eurostar days involved personalised leather suitcases, glamorous travelling companions and silver service dining on a sleek machine-missile headed straight to the heart of lovetown. And murder.
It's often the case that it's only when you move away from a place that you appreciate the finest things about it, which until then you'd either been ignorant of, or had taken for granted. Such was the case with Romanas in Ferryhill.
There being no opportunities to practice being a lounge lizard or a Roman Emperor in 1990s County Durham (or that's what Miss Roddam said anyway) I put in for sixth form work experience in a bookshop.
Good Italian food at Osteria.
Maybe Otto’s would have been a better punt after all.
Having dropped ninety quid in an hour for just enough food for a moderately-sized couple I realised that Fumo's dictator-chic interior is funded on the rapid turnover of dictator-budgeted clients spending such sums. It was fun while it lasted there's plenty of other places around St M's L that offer a similar service at less damage to the wallet.
Bar Vincenzo could save your life, depending on your problem.