Last night was spent in central Belfast. Lady A and self met at the Europa Hotel, saw off a bottle of champers; made an appearance in the Lobby Bar, where a jazz quartet was playing; thence a cab to Molly's Yard.
Molly's Yard is a restaurant and micro-brewery located at the end of Botanic Avenue, beside Dukes Hotel.
We had a table booked for six o'clock, owing to a show at the Grand Opera House at seven-thirty.
Upstairs at Molly's, I had salmon as a first course; Lady A had the linguine. Both were very good.
Main course consisted of a delicious portion of lamb rump for self. Lady A opted for roast chicken. We shared spring greens and washed everything down with a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc.
The bill came to £65.
This was the very first time I'd been upstairs at Molly's, having eaten in the bistro downstairs before.
From Molly's Yard, we took a cab to the Grand Opera House for Opera North's production of Ruddigore, by Gilbert & Sullivan. We sat in the front row of the Dress Circle.
I have to admit to the fact that I was beginning to flag by this stage, having consumed liberal amounts of wine. Indeed, we were both tired and took our leave at the interval.
We promised another pal that we'd make an appearance at their friend's birthday party, at Victoria's Bar in Chichester Street.
Inside, it was heaving with revellers dancing away to extremely loud music, the sort which prevents one from satisfactorily thinking, let alone partaking of a conversation. I had begun drinking orange juice anyway, by this stage.
We had one round and left; 'twas a fine evening.
Molly's Yard is a restaurant and micro-brewery located at the end of Botanic Avenue, beside Dukes Hotel.
We had a table booked for six o'clock, owing to a show at the Grand Opera House at seven-thirty.
Upstairs at Molly's, I had salmon as a first course; Lady A had the linguine. Both were very good.
Main course consisted of a delicious portion of lamb rump for self. Lady A opted for roast chicken. We shared spring greens and washed everything down with a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc.
The bill came to £65.
This was the very first time I'd been upstairs at Molly's, having eaten in the bistro downstairs before.
From Molly's Yard, we took a cab to the Grand Opera House for Opera North's production of Ruddigore, by Gilbert & Sullivan. We sat in the front row of the Dress Circle.
I have to admit to the fact that I was beginning to flag by this stage, having consumed liberal amounts of wine. Indeed, we were both tired and took our leave at the interval.
We promised another pal that we'd make an appearance at their friend's birthday party, at Victoria's Bar in Chichester Street.
Inside, it was heaving with revellers dancing away to extremely loud music, the sort which prevents one from satisfactorily thinking, let alone partaking of a conversation. I had begun drinking orange juice anyway, by this stage.
We had one round and left; 'twas a fine evening.
Can't believe you didn't stay to the end of Ruddigore! It was meant to be really good.
ReplyDeleteAlas, Alan, I was in a slight state of inebriation. What I did see was excellent, though.
ReplyDelete