The half-half tradition

How funny.  How funny that some things never change…. And that everything always evolve.


A hangover cure, a lazy meal – always half-half, Texan BBQ and Vegerama.  When I would arrive in Newcastle on the train, this was the supper that would greet me.  Half for him. Half for me.  And when he would arrive from the north to Brixton, The Oval, Islington or wherever I was crashing in the early years of consulting life – the tradition would continue.


A hangover tonight and I smiled as the order went through as we drove home from another Christmas Drinks party.  Some things never change.  A half-half.


But as he tucks in to his half-half, Tom Tom and I tuck in to our homemade chicken, feta and avocado salad.  Passing in favour of crunch and clean, rather than sickly sweet and sticky fingers.


It makes me smile.  In a way, a romantic tradition and a nod to the past.


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