Today Paul met me after work. It’s such a lovely thing to be met after work. We walked towards Liverpool Street station, dodging those people that give out free papers and talking about our days (Work?! The time has come,” the Walrus said /”To talk of other things”). It was a fantastic London evening; St Paul’s and the Bank of England provided a dramatic backdrop to our mundane banter.

We were almost past it before we saw it; a restuarant board advertising 6 oysters for £5.  The board told us this was to celebrate the start of oyster season.  We both have a soft spot for oysters. For me their salty whiff of glamour has not been tarnished by over-consumption.  For Paul, they are a relatively new addition to his diet.  He describes his attitude to food as “risk adverse.” I don’t think there is anything more risky than trying an oyster for the first time. Cold, wet, slimy, expensive, resembling the aftermath of a particularly violent sneeze; they are an acquired taste.

Oh, yes, the time has come, my little friends     To talk of food and things

Oh, yes, the time has come, my little friends / To talk of food and things

Well, we certainly have acquired one.  We slipped shyly inside this City restaurant, hardly believing it could be true. 6 for a fiver! Amazing.  We ordered 6 each (on my insistence) and slurped them down with lemon juice and green Tabasco splashed on. The best thing was (apart from the price) these oysters had come from Maldon, Essex. For a morbid moment, I imagined them tottering to London, white stilettos and all, before being devoured by a modern day Walrus and Carpenter.

I, uh, weep for you. I (hic), oh excuse me  I deeply sympathise

I, uh, weep for you. I (hic), oh excuse me / I deeply sympathise

To enjoy these cheap Essex oysters head to Gow’s Restaurant & Oyster Bar.

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