Last night, loaded with a basket of good intentions, failed to produce the needed results.
I convinced Di, against her (correct) better judgement, to rail into Perth and go to Jamie Oliver’s new Italian restaurant just around the corner from the train station in central Perth. I knew there would be a line waiting to enter but I did not count on the one and half hour wait for a table from the attendant; Diane said that the place was packed so being in a wheelchair in that crowd meant a no-goer (I know, I know I should have thought about all of that before but I got carried away by the idea that the restaurateurs that had been ripping me off for the last 39 years were now going to fell what their costumers had been feeling!)
We ended up at the place almost directly across from the station: Streetons. It has been there forever; the food tastes like remembrances from the 70s and because of that it is truly worth a visit, for Olde Times sake.
Diane ordered some spag bols and I ordered a chicken parma and we were transported back three decades. Missing Jamie’s Italian Restaurant was not such a bad happening after all.