So, let’s go back to the dark and rainy and neon-lit Clapham High St, midnight on the verge of Good Friday.
You knew the restaurant was going to be trendy because it was under a sex shop. I’d arrived first and was snuggled into the basement sex-den-come-Mexican-bodega with a tempranillo and the deliberately cryptic menu.
“The Virginia Reel!”
The emcee on the hall’s stage is, disappointingly, not kilted but is to be forgiven as he has a beautiful Scottish brogue, great lungs and a love of the dance.