It’s a Thai place where the waitresses smile at you from ear to ear and seem to float you to your table and then present you with embossed menus. The lighting is suffused enough so you just have to squint somewhat to read but the atmosphere is cosy, just the sort of place you want to go to on your anniversary. She’s looking great tonight, her dress angles down revealing just a hint of cleavage and pale winter skin, her blue/grey eyes bite and pierce with life and inquiry as they’ve ever done. The atmosphere is spicy, occasional sizzling dishes wash past on their way to another table. She sings out her suggestions and we both agree, nothing to spicy for us… maybe later.
The entrees are vegetarian spring rolls, they look like rolled up tents or sleeping bags. There’s a defined crunch as incisors puncture the skin and a jet of inner taste propels into my mouth. The dipping sauce tray rattles against the table as I plunge the unbitten end in. A round of mild vegetable and chicken curries arrive next and sticky rice, the spoon seems to be stuck upright it’s so dense. We lift our glasses of chilled sauvignon blanc and clink another year together, still we have plenty to talk about, unlike some of the other couples around us in the restaurant. They seem to be staring vacantly past each other, caught up in other worldy matters. Maybe they’ve got kids or something else to exhaust them, but we’re just alive with ideas….