Review: The Essex Arms, Watford
I love Watford. Well, I love the mahoosive shopping centre, the Harlequin, in Watford. Apart from that, and considering it’s only 20 minutes from where I live, it’s not anywhere I would consider going in the evening.
Still, when the chaps at Ember Pub & Dining contacted me and asked if we’d like to visit their newly refurbished Essex Arms, just around the corner from The Grove, I could hardly say no. Especially when they’d invited us ‘en famille’.
First impressions were favourable – it was a lovely evening and there were loads of people milling around outside having a drink (and yes, that is the Death Wish Dude mucking about with English Grandma):
And this is the inside. The decor is lovely – a bit quirky and fun, and the tables aren’t set too close to each other, so you’re not constantly earwigging someone else’s conversations ( loved the goat). It was kind of like being in someone’s funky dining room:
A quick shufty showed a nice, creative menu, with care taken with regard to suppliers and ingredients. We nibbled on some fiery wasabi peas while we made our choices. The wine list was varied (and really reasonable – loads of choices under a tenner). We ended up plumping for our favourite Oyster Bay Sauvignon Blanc.
Starters arrived quickly and were utterly fabulous. The Prof’s crispy beer battered mushrooms were gorgeously crunchy on the outside with a very tasty smoky tomato sauce, and English Dad’s Severn and Wye Valley smoked salmon was delicious. Huge portions again. Grandma English and I shared a plate of antipasti, with the same salmon, Prosciutto, Somerset Brie (an enormous wodge of it), olives, bread and beetroot relish. Delicious.
For mains, Grandma English and I both plumped for specials: lemon sole with king prawns for Grandma (‘yummy!’):
and confit duck for me. Excuse the appalling photography, but my confit duck was amazing – tender and delicious with none of the greasiness sometimes associated with confit – served with a beautiful piquant red cabbage and creamy dauphinoise potatoes (could have done with a bit more of them, to be honest – lush)
The Death Wish Dude went for nice traditional gammon with fried eggs and the Prof plumped for a steak, which was perfectly cooked and really tender. English Dad’s fish pie was to die for, with large chunks of delicate fish in a really creamy sauce.
The dessert menu is incredible, and the portions are huge. Sadly, we were too full to really do our desserts justice, but seek out the treacle tart (amazing pastry – I wonder if Chef Tom would teach me?):
and the beautiful chocolate brownie. I was tempted by the banoffee pie, but my black forest gateau was moist, dense and gorgeous too.
After espressos we were, frankly, groaning, but we all gave it a whopping 9/10. Very rare to please everyone when you’re catering for a family from 13 to erm… retired. Our gripes were tiny – better veg, or maybe a salad, with the fish pie… but honestly, just niggles. We really couldn’t fault it.
You can find the Essex Arms website here. No need to book. Talking to some locals, I hear the Sunday lunch is fabulous too so we’ll definitely be back. Such good value so near to London is to be very much admired. I can see myself and English Grandma popping in for their enormous plate of scampi (under £7.00 – and I love scampi) and a glass of wine on the way home from the shops.
They also have a fixed price menu with a good choice of 4 or 5 each of starters, mains and desserts for just £11.50. Massive thanks to the lovely manager Kelly, who is rightly proud of her team, and who, apparently owes her Chef a drink. I’d buy him two.
One year to go until London 2012: my trip to the Olympic park
So yesterday, Mr English and I embarked on a little trip. I made the fatal mistake of putting on my new Monsoon shoes (generally, I’m a bit of a slob, but y’know, thought I should dress up for Seb Coe…), which were, in fact, already causing blisters of epic proportions by the time we got to Euston.
The walk from Euston to St Pancras International was enough to completely remove all the skin from my heels, but I soldiered on, especially when we discovered that Eurostar had laid on a lovely welcome with bacon sandwiches and – gasp – pastries!
Hubby and I were there as hangers on (oopsy, of course I mean special guests) to attend a little ceremony and then a lunch to celebrate the ‘year to go’ landmark and welcome competition winners from across Europe who’d won the opportunity to come and hear all about the preparations for the Olympics.
We were rather taken by Freddie the Police Dog (who in turn was rather taken with the bacon sandwiches) and his lovely handler and actually missed Seb Coe talk, but I hear he was very good.
With all the competition winners amassed (I think it was red t-shirts for English winners, blue t-shirts for French winners, yellow for Belgian and orange for…erm… others) and photos organised (we loitered at the back)…
…we were piled onto coaches for a trip across London to the Olympic site (the new rail link, though, will take visitors to the Olympic site in Stratford in just 7 minutes).
Our destination was Forman’s Restaurant – a stone’s throw from the Olympic park (sadly, we didn’t get to see the actual stadium) where we sipped delicious English white wine (Three Choirs Vineyards Coleridge Hill 2009 – seek it out!) and milled about on their gorgeous terrace overlooking the site and ate gorgeous canapés of tempura prawns, sticky sausages and sushi. I might have overindulged a bit but don’t tell.
(What? It was windy.)
The blue lighting in Forman’s was not conducive to food photography, so I’ll spare you my rather sickly-looking picture of the rather delicious Salmon a la Francaise with lovely fresh peas and broad beans and instead share with you our dessert which was a trio of little lovelies including a salted chocolate mousse (with a little caramel surprise at the bottom), a spiced apple compote with a creamy topping, and a tiny little Eton mess. Delicious. Our dinner companions: a fabulous fellow blogger, two competition winners and their partners (hello Richard!) and a Eurostar employee were really lovely company too.
Our speakers were inspiring – first up was the fabulous Olympic silver medal winning Colin Jackson, who was inspiring and funny and gave a great insight into what it’s like to be a competitor at one of these awe-inspiring events. And then came one of the architects of the site, Philip Johnson, who also gave us a really interesting look at his role and the complexities of the project. Here’s a few fab facts for you:
- 125 businesses had to be ‘rehomed’ in order to make way for the site – I think I’m right in saying that one of those was Forman’s itself
- The stadium seats 80,000 people but used just 1/4 of the steel taken to build the Beijing stadium for the last summer Olympics in 2008.
- The stadium will host four amazing opening/closing ceremonies (one each for the olympics and the paralympics), the Creative Director of which will be none other than Slumdog Millionaire director, Danny Boyle.
- After the event, the Olympic village will become housing (some of it affordable), the Olympic health centre will become a health centre for the locals, there will be a school and a huge Westfield shopping centre built in the area as well. A whole new area of London (postcode E20) will have been created.
What an amazing trip. Worth the blisters and the fact that I’ll have to wear flipflops for a week. Mahoosive thanks to Eurostar and the lovely Tom. Oh, and the gorgeous Colin Jackson. What a top bloke.
Roast chicken with a lemon up its bum: step by step
So we’ve trifled with titles: roast lemon chicken, poulet au citron… whatever. In our house it always comes back to ‘roast chicken with a lemon up its bum’. Anatomically correct? Probably not, but it’s kind of stuck.
Roast chicken is the easiest of meals. A quick fiddle, bung it in the oven and your work is done. First things first, though, you must choose your chicken wisely. ’Oh bloody hell’, I hear you cry, ‘here she goes with that free range guff again’, but I won’t be budged: anything other than free range chicken is not an option in my book. I’d rather have chicken less often and have a clear conscience than buy into the terrible cruelty that is intensive farming. There, I’ve said it. This free-range whopper (2.2kg) set me back £10.00 in Tesco. I don’t think that’s bad at all as it’ll probably feed the four of us for two, maybe even three meals. It’s all about using it wisely. In our house a roast chicken will go on to be stock and then soup, and maybe risotto or pilaff too. There are plenty of farmers markets, farm shops and other places doing really great chickens. Shop around and vote with your money and your feet. Right, moving on, then…
Preparation:
Firstly, as with your Christmas turkey, don’t be tempted to rinse it under the tap. The oven temperatures will kill any nasties and you’ll just splash a load of germs around your sink.
The easiest way then is to do nothing. Shove a good quality chicken in the oven on a baking tray with absolutely no adornment and it will still taste delicious. However, anoint it a bit and twiddle with some flavours and it will taste spectacular. As you know, I favour the ‘lemon up the bum’ technique: slice a lemon in half and pop it inside the cavity. The scent of lemon will infuse into the meat beautifully as it steams inside the bird. Dribble a little rapeseed oil on top (or rub with butter) and sprinkle with salt and pepper and you will moisten the breast and flavour the skin too.
There are all sorts of amazing rubs and sprinkles available too: this time I tried this clever little pot from Marks and Spencer. You just spread it over the chicken 15 minutes before it’s done and it tastes gorgeous (by the way, if I used this again, I’d slash the chicken breast a couple of times so the flavour permeated the meat a bit more).
Go wild. Be inventive. Cover your chicken with maple syrup… sprinkle with chilli flakes, or rub it with tandoori paste. Stuff it with handfuls of herbs and a couple of onions… the possibilities are endless.
Oven temperature:
Ah the interwebz – a delectable tangle of information. Generally, too much information. If you search ‘how to roast a chicken’ you’ll get a thousand people (a thousand and one, now) telling you a thousand different ways: 45 minutes per kg and then 30 minutes, or maybe 20 minutes for 500g and then 20 minutes… Gas mark 4… gas mark 5… You get the picture.
I’m not one for faffing, so I keep it simple: I set the oven at 190/gas 5 and then if it’s a 1kg chicken, I cook it for an hour. If it’s 1.5kg I cook it for an hour and a half, and so on. If you check it ten minutes before and it’s done, then just whip it out. Not quite there? Leave it another ten.
Checking to see if the chicken is cooked:
The easiest way is to undo a leg (if it’s tied to the other one) and give it a wobble. If it’s very easy to move, then it’s done. You can also stab it in the thickest part of the thigh, catch the juices in a spoon, and make sure they’re clear. If there’s any blood, pop it back in for a while.
Resting:
If you carve a bird straight out of the oven, the flesh just ‘fluffs’ up and you can’t get a decent slice. Cover your bird with foil and a teatowel and leave it to ‘chillada’ for ten or fifteen minutes and everything will have calmed down a bit. Now you can carve it easily.
Accompaniments:
Again, the world’s your oyster. Serve the chicken traditional-style with gravy, roast potatoes and vegetables, or in summer try some lovely roasted veg and some minted new potatoes. It’s lovely with couscous and wonderful just picked at with a massive salad and loads of fresh crusty bread.
In Dubai, they served roasted meat with a glorious spicy mixture of cabbage cooked in cream with sultanas. It tasted divine.
Leftovers:
Yes, picking over a roast chicken is a pain, but stuff it in the fridge overnight and the next day it will be much easier to pick. Don’t forget to turn it over and get all those lovely bits from underneath – perfect for sandwiches, salads, risotto and curry. Finally, use the carcass to make stock and you’ve really done it justice.
For the wine:
… it’s over to the gorgeous Helen – a fabulous bundle of loveliness, a dear friend and… coincidentally, a wine expert (check out how fantastic wine blog, Knackered Mothers’ Wine Club):
”So, for roast chicken, a fuller-bodied Chardonnay often does the trick. However, EM has cleverly added lemon, garlic and rosemary flavours to the mix so this dish needs something with a bit more weight and flavour to it. If you want to stick with white, go for a rich style of Chardonnay with a bit of oak but – honestly – red will work better. Chianti is the answer: great flavours to match the garlic and rosemary but not too overpowering to cover the flavour of the chicken.”
Off you go, then. And if anyone can think of a better title for the ‘lemon up the bum’ bit – feel free to let me know.
Save money on your energy bill with English Mum and uSwitch.com
As Britain gradually pulls itself out of a financial recession, we’re all having to tighten our purse strings a bit. This is certainly true when it comes to choosing an energy supplier. With a vast amount of suppliers available each offering great deals, homeowners are reluctantly committing to long term contracts. I’ve teamed up with uSwitch and uSwitchforbusiness to bring you some brilliant energy saving tips:
Shop Around for the Cheapest Energy Supplier
Not rocket science! One of the simplest ways to reduce your annual energy bill is by shopping around. Yes this can be time consuming and confusing with so many things to consider such as fixed or variable plans but do some research and you will find better deals. According to Ofgem, over four million people switched their energy supplier last year, saving on average £150! It really does pay to compare gas and electricity prices before signing on the dotted line. This also applies to your business electricity needs.
Care For Your Boiler
The average boiler’s lifespan is about 10 years and then it begins to become less reliable and less efficient. Getting your boiler serviced regularly will extend its lifespan and also save you money in the long run as you will avoid having to pay extortionate prices for an emergency callout!
Insulating your home
By insulating your home properly you can drastically reduce your fuel consumption. Insulation acts like a large duvet by trapping any rising heat from the house below, thus helping to reduce your heating costs.
Lower The Temperature
The Energy Saving Trust has reported that homeowners can save up to 10% on their annual heating bills by simply turning down their thermostat by a mere one degree centigrade!
Switch to Energy Saving Lightbulbs
Cheap, practical and efficient, energy saving light bulbs are another great way of making a saving on your energy bills. Priced at only £3 and lasting 12 times longer than the ordinary ones, these light bulbs provide a cheaper alternative and come in a variety of shapes and sizes.
Many thanks to uSwitch for allowing me to share all their information.
Proud parenting moments: the job interview
I know, I know… I hate those ‘my children are fabulous’ articles too. Let me rush to reassure you that my children aren’t fabulous. Well, I mean obviously, I think they’re fabulous because I’m their Mum and I kind of have to, but they argue and fart and shout and call each other a ‘douche’ and throw hangers at each other when trying on clothes in changing rooms and come in late and answer back and call me a ‘bellend’ and all sorts of general teenage pain-in-the-arseness, so it’s not going to one of those. Honest.
But…
Since being back in England, it’s been brilliant. They’ve been out with their Grandad for fabulous meals… out with their mates… down the gym… down the cricket club… it’s been never ending. And with that, of course, has been the flow of money. Which has also been never ending.
Lift to the big skatepark in the next town? Can’t you get the bus? Yes, but it’s £2.65 have you got any cash? I’m off to the gym, it’s cheaper if you get membership… Can we get a McDonald’s…?
And so it goes on. The Prof, then, decided it was time he was self-sufficient and decided to get a job for the summer. We toiled over a CV. Any idea how hard it is to pad out the CV of a 16 year old so it covers a whole page? Not bloody easy. We put down his predicted GCSE grades, and the subjects he’s chosen for A level, but then…
Luckily he had a really nice reference from the aviation company where he did his work experience last year. I stuck it on the bottom of the page.
Me: ‘and you need to put down some of your hobbies.. something that’s going to make it look like you don’t spend all day in your bedroom…’
Him: ‘Ooh, I’m wicked at Xbox…’
Me: ‘Oh god’.
Anyway, CV typed, he popped up to the ever-useful Disreputable Grandad to get some photocopies done, and then he was gone.
For hours.
And hours.
Eventually, he trudged up the path.
Turns out, he’d been along the high street and gone in EVERY shop and business and asked if they were hiring.
I was bloody impressed. Seriously. Even English Dad was in awe: ‘would you have walked the high street with a CV at 16? Nope, me neither’.
And he got an interview (at a well known high street coffee establishment, no less). As I watched him slope up the path, shaggy hair, jeans hanging round his arse, I had my doubts, but he’s obviously inherited the family ‘talking his way into anything’ gene, and was soon back with news of a start date.
As usual, he was unimpressed with our excitement… he’s already got it worked out. ’This time next year I’ll have enough for a car’.
Oh GOD!
Well done, Sam. I’m bloody proud of you. A+ for effort xx
The best… Sunday lunch
So we haven’t done much sharing recently, have we? The last ‘the best…’ we did was toast toppings, so today I thought we’d push the boat out a bit.
Sunday lunch. I do love a pie. And I don’t care whether it’s the middle of summer or not…
Another favourite with us is our patented ‘roast chicken with a lemon up its bum’ (still working on a new name for that one). In summer, we pair it with minted new potatoes and lovely summer veg, and then Monday is risotto day.
How about you, then… what’s the best Sunday lunch in your house?
Amy Winehouse, dead at 27. Somebody’s daughter, remember?
A long time ago, back in 2007 in fact, an Irish model – Katie French – died of a drug overdose. I found some of the comments made at the time pretty abhorrent and remember writing a blog post about it.
Yesterday, over 90 people, many of them teenagers, were murdered by a madman in Norway.
This afternoon I watched Twitter in horror as first people near her home tweeted about seeing ambulances and police cars, and then the confirmation came: Amy Winehouse had died. Instantly, people crowed: ‘it’s her own fault’… ‘who gives a damn?’ and much, much worse.
Seriously? Yes, Amy Winehouse obviously had terrible addictions to goodness knows what… she was troubled and – let’s face it – ill. Does that make her death less serious than those killed in Norway? She’s still somebody’s daughter. Somebody’s heart is breaking tonight knowing that she’s gone. Do the circumstances of her death make her parents less worthy of our compassion and our sympathy?
I say no.
This weekend, I’m keeping a whole lot of people in my heart. People whose lives will never be the same again. And holding my children very, very close.
And the last word must go to Katie French’s family, who said at the time: ‘we would earnestly ask all those — both young and old — who may be tempted to dabble in potentially lethal substances to simply say ‘no’. No amount of so-called fun is worth the loss of life that so often befalls young people in Ireland today.’
WIN the chance for your child to be a McDonald’s Player Escort at the FA Community Shield!!
Thank you for all your entries. This competition is now closed. Winners will be announced shortly - good luck!
I’m so ridiculously excited. I think this is quite possibly the best competition I’ve ever done and it’s absolutely going to make some little person’s summer.
Basically, I’ve teamed up with McDonald’s, the official Community Partner of the FA, to offer two children between the ages of 7 and 11 years old the chance to become a McDonald’s Player Escort and walk out onto the pitch with Manchester’s football stars at Wembley Stadium on 7th August at The FA Community Shield, sponsored by McDonald’s.
The husband tells me that this Manchester derby will be a real corker: Man Utd and Man City head to head in the competition for the first time since 1956.
Know a 7-11 year old who’d love to walk out onto the pitch at Wembley with their Premiership heroes?
If you do, this could be the once-in-a-lifetime experience they’ve been dreaming of. They’ll get to walk out onto the pitch at Wembley *swoon* hand in hand with one of the Premiership’s biggest stars. They’ll win a night’s stay at the Hilton Wembley Park and get tickets to the match (for them and their family), a goody bag, replica shirt and shorts and a contribution towards travel expenses on the day.
I’ve also got runners up prizes of three more family tickets (they class a family as 4 people) so even if your child isn’t lucky enough to head out onto the pitch, you can still enjoy the atmosphere of Wembley. I’m going too, so hopefully we’ll get to say hello!
About McDonald’s:
McDonald’s has been the Community Partner of the FA since 2002 and aims to create more football opportunities for all. Since the partnership was formed McDonald’s has created over 20,000 qualified football coaches, offering 2 million hours of free, quality coaching to young players across the UK.
About the FA Community Shield:
Geoff Hurst, McDonald’s Director of Football, said: “This year’s FA Community Shield looks set to be a great match. I’m sure we’ll see lots of passion on and off the pitch from the players and the fans, and it will be a great experience for the youngsters who get to walk out with teams. I’m looking forward to a good game of football and I wish everyone who enters the competition the very best of luck!”
To be in with a chance of winning this fantastic prize, just leave a comment and tell me why your nominated child deserves to win, and which team they’d like to walk out with. Simple as that!
*New commenters: your comment will take a while to appear
Little Matty’s Christening – and a bit of cupcake tower trauma
So after promising my lovely cousin, Moon and his wife Miska that I’d make cupcake towers for Mattie’s Christening, I’ve been having Laura-like cupcake anxiety dreams for the last week – nightmares about everything from collapsing towers to rock-hard icing have plagued my sleep. I was almost glad when Saturday arrived and I could stop worrying and get on with it. Brace yourself, then, a few gazillion photos to follow…
When I’d asked Moon and Miska what they wanted, they said ‘really bright colours’, so I chose base buttercream colours in violet, tangerine, lime and ice blue, topped with flavoured fondant in chocolate, sherbert lemon, fizzy orange and strawberry (not too much pink, obviously). I spent a nice relaxing couple of days cutting out loads of stars and circles and also made some stars on ‘springs’ made of florist’s wire to dangle over the edge of the towers.
I was a bit disappointed as the fondant dried considerably lighter in colour, but hey, I decorated some of the stars with very dodgy ‘M’s and pearlised white writing icing and sprinkles and was quite pleased with the end result:
I then spent a very sweaty couple of hours in the kitchen baking the vanilla cupcakes, then mixing up the buttercream in batches and blending it with the colouring paste.
After the buttercream icings were completely chilled, I whipped them up again and piped them directly onto the cooled cakes. I did some with traditional swirls, some with little star clusters and a few ‘turds’, as my lovely son nicknamed them. It started to go slightly wrong at this stage because the kitchen was so hot that the buttercream was starting to melt, so after a quick panic call to my Dad, he arranged for me to get into the venue and we transported all the cakes into their fridge – just in the nick of time.
The next morning I went and decorated all the cakes in situ and I have to say I left for the church feeling really proud of myself. The buttercream stayed really vibrant, and it didn’t seem to matter than the fondant was slightly lighter in colour:
The actual Christening was wonderful. Little Matty behaved so well and the Vicar was really lovely:
Everyone was so nice about the cupcakes and I absolutely adored watching this little girl concentrating so hard on choosing which one she’d have:
Matty was an absolute trooper, giving constant smiles and cuddles to everyone…
He showed off his walking:
and even gave his Dad a quick round of applause after his speech:
The hubster popped in to say hi on his way back to work:
And I was so proud of my fellas and my beautiful niece Lu, who were a great laugh and absolutely lovely company:
A special thank you to Helen at Aardvark Cakes for emergency Twitter panic support and her invaluable help and advice.
Also big thank you to Renshaw for the lovely flavoured fondant (my favourite was the lemon sherbet!). Check out their amazing website: http://www.mybakes.co.uk/
Recipes:
The cupcakes were just basic vanilla sponges made in batches of 6 eggs (weighed in their shells), then equal weights of butter, caster sugar and self-raising flour. Cream the butter and sugar until light and fluffy, then beat in the eggs a little at a time. Add 2tsp vanilla extract and then stir in the self-raising flour. Spoon into 24 muffin cases (1tbsp mixture into each) then bake at 180/gas 4 for about 20 mins. NB: if you add a tray of water into the bottom of the oven, the cupcakes stay nice and flat on top.
The buttercream was 500g butter and 1kg icing sugar (per 24). Cream the butter then gently add in the icing sugar and a splosh of milk and beat until soft and fluffy. Add in about 1/2 tsp of colouring paste (use less for pastel colours), beat again, then refrigerate. Before piping, whip until soft.
The one where the Death Wish Dude and I get a fish pedicure
So the Death Wish Dude was very keen on trying out the fish pedicure spa in the shopping centre near us. Skaters suffer terribly with their feet apparently (and their hips, and their knees, but I don’t think there’s a fish for that yet). Anyhoo, yesterday, with his fellow skater dudes all still at school and the skate park quiet and empty, we decided to head over and have a go.
It all started quite well. We had our feet checked and then signed a medical form promising that we didn’t have all sorts of random viruses, warts, and pugnatious putrefractions (okay I made that last one up), and settled down with our feet in a nice warm cleansing bath.
We were then invited to pop our feet into the little fishy bath where the little nibblers (Turkish Garra Rufa fish – apparently they just love dead skin) started working away at our tootsies:
It was about then that all hell broke loose. An entire family of travellers entered the fish spa along with several hundred children and various sisters, mums and aunties. The young lady that was having the fish pedi sat next to me and proceeded to:
a: Scream. Long and loud. Oh, and shout ‘FECKING HELL I’M GUNNA BE SICK MAM!’ in my ear
b: Forget that she was about to be sick and conduct long and complicated conversations at great volume across me about a wedding with the various friends and relatives (who were a good ten feet away). I’m presuming that she was the bride. She was very chatty but we didn’t get in much of a conversation because she kept interrupting herself by yelling things like ‘ARGH THEY’RE CRAWLIN UP ME LEG MAM!’ I was worried because, sod the feet, she really needed to get her roots done if she was getting married on Saturday.
c: invite various smaller children to come and look. Two of them (young twin girls – bridesmaids, apparently) were both eating enormous hot dogs, and as they chewed, talked incredibly fast and looked at the fish, several bits of chewed hot dog escaped and fell into the fishy water. I’m presuming that since Garra Rufa fish eat foot skin, they’re not too fussy about the odd bit of hot dog, but I still thought this was a bit off.
d: shout at her relatives that she too wanted a hot dog, that her money was in her purse and could they put mustard on it. Sure enough, ten minutes later she was also chomping on a massive hot dog, dropping bits into the fish.
Anyway, the Dude and I settled into companionable silence (well, what else could we do in the circumstances) and tried to enjoy our fish Pedicure while the bride discussed the finer points of Chelsey’s underskirts and shouted at her family about Shane not having the right shoes.
It wasn’t exactly relaxing, but then I can’t entirely blame the fish for that. Our feet were quite soft afterwards, though…
