Saturday night is traditionally pizza night here. Despite being told that my home made pizzas are ‘the best in the world’ (we get quite an eclectic mix of toppings in this house, specially tailored to each person), I am personally getting a bit fed up of them. We have eaten pizza once a week for at least three years because it is one of two meals I can serve and get no complaints and have no one going hungry. The best meal in the world, if I had to eat it every week, would gradually become boring and I would yearn for change.
We had planned, instead of having my pizza, to go to Frankie and Benny’s for dinner. This is where being a family of five becomes a bit tricky. They have lots of booths for four, but not many tables for more. We were told it would be an hour before a table became available, so after making sure that in the future we could book a table by phone (the website said ‘booking for large groups only’, the people in the restaurant were surprised at that), we went home. Then we ordered pizza.
We ordered pizza. Most of you will have no idea how significant this is. We ordered pizza and had it delivered! For five years we lived in a little village, where you could get nothing delivered. The nearest chip shop was a ten minute drive. The nearest pizza? I honestly have no idea. There are many advantages to living in a little village with a good community feel. Pizza is not one of them.