Come back here, lamb—I must eat you!
In Iceland, everywhere you looked there were lambs—fresh lambs. And so it makes sense that the lamb shank I ordered turned out to be one of the best meals I've ever eaten.
What made it a teensy bit awkward though was that while Shelley, Peter and I ordered the lamb shank, Jo, in a fit of madness, opted for the meat balls. Being a polite chap, I didn't want to make a fuss about how good the shank was. Also, being a shamelessly selfish chap, I didn't want to have to share my shank. And so, for me, the meal degraded into wide-eyed shovelling and guilty glances.
2 comments:
That sounds like *most* of your meals, Jules.
Yeah, OK.
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