Friday, February 22, 2013

It's totally not a cult..

So we are back in our house, so long as we don't go back in the laundry, until after the cleaning mob come again today and the air testing man returns, we are free to roam the main areas of our house, just not the laundry. 
I'm not complaining about not being able to do any washing, no... I'll do that when I have fifteen loads to do all at once, but I could not be more pissed off at the people my insurance company hired to fix the broken pipe.

Note to insurance company;

Broken pipes should not require a weeks leave of absence from your house/school slash guitars and electronics, but this happened on account of the contractors hired by you, making my house deadly.
Write that down.

It is fortunate for them though; that they avoided my pre meditated PMS of last week.
Lucky. I. Tell you.


To take my mind off things, I had lunch with my dad.

We of course could not eat at just anywhere, because it's dad,  he chose a local cafe, which is run by a community of people, who live sustain a self-sufficient lifestyle, growing their own everything, pesticide free and trade within other communities, who live a similar lifestyle.

The men all have beards, (seems to be a bit of a theme this week) and the women were all dressed very womanly, in long skirts, blouses and they had their hair pulled into a casual bun at the nape of their neck. 

Before you start, It's not a cult & Yes, I asked, because I think things and they just come out of my mouth before I have a chance to check with my brain first.

However, they were very sure it wasn't a cult...Even though they lived in what was referred to as "The compound" and it was set among the same kind of scenery that many bizarre horror films begin with... In the middle of nowhere. *nervous shifty eyes.

After having a quick scan around the room to check that Tom Cruise was not there, I felt comfortable enough and perused the menu.

The food was fresh and beyond delicious. The service was very relaxed and The sandwiches have funky names. The pastry on the pies are homemade, & the pie fillings are divine combinations of various fresh grown ingredients, although they don't have funky names.
They are just called pies.
They also have extensive vegetarian options.

So I made my order of a chicken and leek pie, called chicken and leek pie, and dad, deciding he would use his once a week meat option, had a silverside and sauerkraut sandwich on homemade rye which was called a Reuben. I hardly thought it fair that his had a funky name whilst mine did not, so I decided that I would call my pie, Nana- Batman.

If you don't watch the Simpsons, you probably won't get that last one... Also we can never be friends.

Anyway... both dishes were to die for, not literally of course... Because it wasn't a cult. *nervous shifty eyes. Dad and I discussed all the things daughters and fathers discuss over lunch, such as the demise of civilization, our dreams and their meanings, various famines, dying, the world ending and deep seated fears.
As you do, (read- this is what is wrong with me.)

When it came time to pay the bill, there was a tense few minutes, when I wasn't sure if we would be free to leave, but it turns out we were. The people there are free to leave at any time.

Its not a cult remember?

Happy Friday.


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