eating out: tiella

a new restaurant in East London which is as warm and inviting as an Italian lady's bosom

TIELLA: EATING OUT

It is a dark, stormy night and I am cycling through godforsaken Columbia Road.

The wind is whining in my ears and the rain is flooding my eyeballs and groin. As I turn the corner, I hit a particularly busty bump in the road and I go flying. My elbow scrapes along the wet tarmac and my heart breaks a little. Hopefully someone will venture into one of the whimsy shops on Columbia Road and buy me a 15 quid, hand painted get-well-soon card. As I gather my various belongings from the road, the rain turns from gentle to torrential and my morale reaches an all time low. I must seek refuge.

Like Virgin Mary, I am at a loose end. She was with child, I am with appetite. I spot a warm orange glow from down the street so I follow the light and arrive at a wooden door. The door creaks open and I ask: excuse me good sir, is there any room at the inn? For a walk-in? table of 2? I flutter my eyelashes just like Virgin Mary did (I like to imagine Mary as a sort of bashful slut).