Gunga Bhaji and the Temple of Cu-rree
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Diary and Notes
Gunga Bhaji had managed to sneak closer, hiding always in the shadows, working his way to the foot of the temple. He could hear the low throb of the drums, the chants of the thuggee warriors and the hissing of a thousand beer-cobras in the snake pits all around. He was afraid, but he knew he must go on.
He grasped his home made spice mix talisman, to ward off his fear of the curry house smell and sneaked inside. The temple doors slammed shut behind him and all was dark.
"Cu-rree." Came the chant from ahead of him and a small light flickered in the distance. "Cu-rree." To his left and then another light. More chants from all
around began to fill the giant chamber and more lights shone through the darkness. "Cu-rree." He was surrounded, they were all about him and moving in for the kill. It was a trap.
I'm in Tetbury today, a small town in Gloucestershire. There's an excellent Indian restaurant where my sister Kerry had her wedding reception recently (my whole family are curry eaters and all our friends too...) Tetbury is famous for a few things. Firstly it's where Big Ears lives (not the one from Noddy but the one who may one day be king), secondly, antique shops and thirdly, snooty locals who got a petition up to have the Indian restaurant's license to sell alcohol revoked in the hopes it would force them to shut up shop and leave. I'm not saying the locals are racist but this doesn't happen to anyone else opening restaurants in the town.
Anyway, just to show the locals that they were a match for their simple minded ways, the owners turned the restaurant into a 'bring your own booze' place and went from strength to strength. It's only a small place and very tricky to get a table. They do great take away business and are perhaps one of the best things about the town. When the nasty little man who organised the petition realised he had failed, he moved away and left the town for good. I hope he doesn't move near you, if he does, organise a petition to have him neutered.
So it was curry again and a mighty fine one too. I don't eat a lot of prawn curries, but so as to avoid repetition, thought it would be just the ticket. It was. I'm not sure what makes a patia a patia, but this was called prawn patia and had almost nothing but prawns and sauce. The muttar paneer (mung beans and curd cheese) were also damn fine. Come to Tetbury and show your solidarity with the owners, then join me for a fine pint of local beer and a sing of the red flag. They used to call this little Moscow because of all the communists who lived here. Not any more sadly, now it's true blue, through and through. (Except Charlie of course, he's a tree hugging hippy).
A very tasty Belgium sytle chocolate cream cake. A thick chocolate sponge stuffed with cream. Best cake I've had since I got back to Britain. It came in a cream cake selection from Tescos, by jimmeny.