Greek

Tonight we went to a Greek restaurant in Bukit Timah. This being Singapore, there's no public use of the bouzouki, smashing plates is strictly illegal and I can't think of any more hackneyed Greek stereotypes.

Food wasn't bad, although I've never been that keen on Greek food. It's ok to wrap things in vine leaves, but it's a bit silly; if you're going to focus on doing things with vines, shouldn't you be concentrating on wine? And with a single bound I dismiss an entire culture's cuisine. Sorry about that. It's not like I stole all their most important cultural artefacts though.

Not personally, anyway.

I think the staff misheard something about the Socratic method and applied the stochastic one instead; our plate of pitta breads took several random walks around the restaurant before finally arriving at our table. Once, chaos theory completely failed to deliver and we had to send two waiters to retrieve our dish. Well, the first waiter that we sent to catch the one who got lost ... got lost. It's lucky the second one found the others, or we could have been trapped in an infinite regress.

However, they redeemed themselves by bringing out a piece of baklava with a candle stuck in it (we had a birthday in our party) and for the second time this week I got to infringe Warner Brothers' copyright by singing 'Happy Birthday'. I think we got away with it because my crow-like voice makes it hard to distinguish singing from howls of woe and derision. Although at some birthday parties that wouldn't make a difference.

I was exhausted though, and part way through dinner a cold sneaked up on me and wham, I was a speechless, stumbling wreck for the night; not optimal when we'd planned for karaoke. Back home in a taxi and in bed by 11. Never did find out what's a Grecian urn, although I hear it won't be in euros for much longer.