Yesterday saw Mrs The Millbrooker and me pootling over to The China House in Plymouth for a Sunday lunchtime slap-up. The purpose of the trip was for us prospective grandparents to meet the other prospective grandparents, Pam & Lester, EarMatt's mum and dad.
That's them on the right of the photo bravely accepting that they're now almost related to the big bald twonk who has plonked himself on the pew next to them. Dozybean, EarMatt and Mrs The Millbrooker make up the rest of the motley.
A word about EarMatt - last time I was in Brittany I discovered that the traditional Breton version of "cheers" or "bottoms up" is spelt Yar Mat, so the young and diminutive Trace type person is to undergo name spelling replacement surgery, without the benefit of anaesthetic and from now on will be referred to as YarMatt.
The meal was jolly good - The China House is a bit cooking-by-numbers, but they do what they do very well and they don't charge the earth for it. I think I just about managed to pass muster and was careful not to point out every double entendre on offer because YarMatt had told me to be on my best behaviour. I nearly disgraced myself when Mrs The Millbrooker mentioned that she'd not had pork for a long time, but recovered from an unseemly fit of the giggles in reasonable time.
I must recommend that customers of the China House avoid the after pudding treat on offer, it didn't seem entirely to my taste, anyway:
Tee hee hee.