quitting, and such

I have sort of quit. I turned in the final draft of my report yesterday and the boss told me that short of wanting a "grossary", she was quite satisfied with everything and no longer needed my services. Unless, she said, you want me to give you more work. Much head-shaking, hurried emptying of drawers, etc.

"Sort of quit" because there is one more gala meeting next week which I (unfortunately) have to attend, apart from which I am once more free as the Easterlies. Lunch, anyone? Dinner? Tea? Second breakfast?

Felicitations have already been received from Yen, Fay, Sulin and CP (whose name gets abbreviated from now on because I'm too damn lazy to type it keep typing it out in full) over dinner last night at Annalakshmi (was that what the place was called?), Indian restaurant in Excelsior where you pay as much as you wish for however much you eat. Ordering was a bit of a trial because no one really knew what anything on the menu was, but we ended up with a spinach cottage-cheesey thing, stuffed capsicums drowning in curry, a cong1 you2 bing3-like dish that was either utthapam or uppatham or neither and a multiplicity of rotis, all very oily. oh, and samosas and cauliflower in batter to start, and gulab jamun and rasmallai at the end, no kulfi because they were out, and everyone remembering A Sense of Shame because of what CP dubs our shared something-or-another textuality, otherwise known as being forced to read the same crap in secondary school, titihoyas, mockingbirds and all.