Thursday, December 06, 2012

A discovery in the Gardens

Friends of my wife are in town, so she arranged to meet them at Casa Verde, a restaurant just inside the Botanic Gardens. I was exhausted (I slept badly last night, and the grey skies meant I never really woke up today) and so we set out a little late, after I'd lost twenty minutes asleep down the back of the sofa.

When we arrived, the restaurant was empty, apart from one other couple. She was eating pasta, he was bent up in his chair, looking as exhausted as me. Of my wife's friends, there was no sign. I ordered a small salad while we waited, and my wife emailed her friends to ask where they were. At the restaurant, in the gardens.

I looked around. At 6:45 in the evening, it begins to get a bit dark, but not enough to conceal people entirely. I was too tired and hungry to mess about with diners who wore camouflage gear and hid in hedges, so I continued to look at the menu while my wife peered out into the darkness.

Perhaps they were at another restaurant in the gardens. My wife emailed them again and told them to come down the hill.

They replied that there wasn't a hill.

Now, the Botanic Gardens aren't exactly Alpine terrain, but there's a fairly unmissable hill in the middle. It was getting dark, admittedly, but there was still a hill there. I grew more sceptical of their presence.

But they were at Casa Verde. Unfortunately, at the new Casa Verde, at the Gardens By The Bay, rather than the Botanic ones. It goes to show, you need to be very specific when making dinner arrangements.

Still, we got to have dinner to ourselves, and I discovered something new, which was that my wife has been convinced for the last 3 and a half years that I detest spaghetti.

I quite like spaghetti. I probably like green apples more, but not with pasta sauce on them. Spaghetti is easy to cook, is longer than it's wide, and rich in carbohydrates. What's not to like?

Yet my wife was adamant that every time she's shown me spaghetti, I've been obviously revolted. I'm not sure how she's come under this misapprehension. If only I'd written more about spaghetti in this blog, we'd be able to cross-reference and figure this out. Instead, we're left with worry and doubt. If you can go that long with the wrong idea about somebody's pasta proclivities, what else is there you might not know? The difference between Singapore's gardens, for one thing.


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