Tonight JC had organised a foodie treat of delicious morsels of tapas with red carpet treatment courtesy of a couple of contacts he'd been recommended to, and that crucially, we're expecting us. After we've had our fill, we would retire to their sister restaurant for a main meal.
However JC decided to mix things up a bit and instead of following the emailed suggestions, go straight to the restaurant and see if anyone there recognised our esteemed hosts. They didn't, it seemed! But not for the want of trying. Nevertheless we had some very tasty Spanish food served by seemingly perplexed staff as they just didn't know who these people were we had been apparently introduced to. Finally at the end of the meal the penny dropped and it transpired that these two weren't entirely unknown, as the could be found at the tapas bar up the road. I sensed a certain eagerness to get rid of us. Taking the hint, we forgoed dessert in favour of tapas, possibly random, but why not? The comedic element of the evening continued, as the moment we stepped inside the sister tapas bar, it transpired that it was shut. Albeit briefly, we met one of the elusive contacts and they were indeed expecting us, hours ago and when they were open. They suggested that their sister restaurant might still be receiving guests, funny that. We suspect they might not be so welcoming so we opted to find another bar for post-prandial drinks. We ended up in a typical Bermondsey bar, one that had definitely been something else in a previous life. The area was full of warehouses, wharf front buildings and industries before it becoming rather derelict. Now it's all shiny restaurants, cool bars, warehouse conversions, suits and the odd bearded hipster all in the shadow of the Shard or according to some, the Tower of Sauron.