Tag Archives: Corrieri’s

…and the Christmas tagliatelle

The Fledgling Girls booked themselves in for Christmas lunch at Corrieri’s yesterday, and they allowed me to tag along, in all my un-Fledglingness.

Moira McPartlin, Alex Nye, Bookwitch and Helen Grant

It was good. Corrieri’s used to be somewhere the Resident IT Consultant’s relatives gathered for Christmas Eve pizzas in the semi-olden days, so it has Christmassy connotations for me. And what could be more seasonal than mushrooms and tagliatelle? Fish and chips. Pizza. It was all good.

We exchanged gifts and cards.

We exchanged opinions on a lot of things, from all that stuff in the news, to literary agents, authors having large incomes (hah), second husbands, incidents with cars, art, lemon desserts, having nice offspring, 1980s music, getting on with one’s parents. You know, perfectly normal conversation.

At least I think it was…

We might have stayed longer than the restaurant expected us to, but it’s hard to stop chatting mid-gossip. If there is a next time, I’ll have Moira’s dessert.


We’re having the weekend ‘off’. Sort of. So you will not get a real blog post out of me, because I’ve not behaved in a terribly bookwitchy way.

Once I staggered out of bed after Friday’s graduation excesses I did, however, have a very good literary Saturday. As I mentioned a few weeks ago Helen Grant moved to Scotland in June, and I’m afraid I took advantage of her weakened state by suggesting we might meet up now that I was temporarily in the same country.

Helen was sufficiently taken aback by this and didn’t even claim a prior appointment with her hairdresser to get out of it. So she and her lovely children Blackwolf and Shardspirit along with the energetic Mr G obeyed my witchy summons and made it to Corrieri’s for pizza, pasta and proper Italian ice cream.

It was very nice. I brought Daughter along and even the Resident IT Consultant got an airing, seeing as it was his hometown. The place was quietening down as we arrived, but we soon put a stop to that, and soon we could barely hear ourselves chat. So I’m unable to report too many indiscretions, I’m afraid.

The Grant pets (no, they didn’t come) have taken well to their new home, and once Helen has finished murdering her way around Flanders, she will consider killing off some of Perthshire. I’m looking forward to that.

Both Shardspirit and Blackwolf brought books to read (I suspect they sensed I might be boring, and how right they were) which I thoroughly approve of. Daughter had nothing better to do than fiddle with her mobile. The lovely Helen gave me a devil rubber duck, which I will treasure always. Unless that cheeky Daughter steals it off me.

After a nice meal the Grants dropped us off so dangerously close to Oxfam that the Resident IT Consultant went there and ‘had an accident’. Bookaholics! Honestly!