Wiser? Indeed I am. It feels like it, anyway. Trepidation? Not really, but the past ten sure went by really fast and I have waxed lyrical about it somewhat recently.

It was five years since we did this last. The Cornells were still Mr Cornell and Miss Gere then, and as were the Codgers (Mr Codger was still lost five years ago and we haven’t met Mrs Codger yet) and the Seventudjohs (unfortunately Mr Seventudjoh couldn’t join us this time as he is on a tour of duty in KL at a big four firm). In this instance, the Sheepwoman and yours truly are (still) proudly perpetuating the status quo. There wasn’t much preliminary planning to this but Mrs Cornell rallied the numbers and made the bookings, and Friday was the beginning of the weekend of tame debauchery for this double dirgahayu sesh (yes it’s Jim’s birthday too, kinda). With the added pressure for the Sheepwoman to come sans Asics and badminton racket/futsal gear.

Pasha was a delightful Moroccan eatery tucked at the eastmost point of Gloucester Road. The last time I enjoyed a hearty Moroccan meal was à Chez Hamadi dans le quartier Latin, Paris (waiting for wails of derision now). The pounding sound of the darbuka greeted us as the maitre d’ immediately recognised us as the booking under Mrs C, and it took only ten minutes for us to warm our seats until the other main attraction of Pasha came into view. And we (note the collective noun used here) were not disappointed. The meals were excellent, in my books. We started with the kemia which included jawaneh meshwi (chicken wings) and the obligatory hommus. The meshwi comprised a massive chunk of lamb shoulder with couscous, and the tagine laham wal barbouk (lamb) was tender. The sausages (merguez meshwi) that came as the starter and as part of the snihat laham meshwi (aka the mixed grill – a bit on the scant side – but with the massive meshwi, it was a nice enough portion) were absolutely gorgeous. For drinks, I recommend the Tangier Dream – never thought daun ‘gegat’ could taste nice in a drink. Leaving Pasha satiated in both sense of the word is an understatement.

Saturday was kinda hit and miss – with the damn line closures, both rail and underground services, which saw the Friday party halved in number. Jim was given his Monday’s habuan – an audiovisual combo of the Franklin TN five. Unlike the last dirgahayu weekend when we probably hit as many parts of The Smoke in a day, we were happy enough lazily chilling at the Cornells’ partaking in a little rock kapak karok sesh and discussion about how nice it’d be if the reunion at Sonisphere would include a smaller venue show (at any price, ada berani?), before hitting Fitou (previously No.1) Cafe for the second onslaught. Weeping tiger (เสือร้องไห้) was an absolute must and I am afraid two glasses of Thai iced tea was a tad intoxicating. We were joined by Mr Seventudjoh’s sis and brother (with whom an engaging conversation about Miyazaki and Oshii ensued).

We were subsequently invited to the Seventudjoh’s for a sesh on the PS3 (no ra ra a a ah i’m afraid) – and boy, was the meal taking its toll on my consciousness level at that time. It was good fun, although we did stagger in a non-alcoholic manner back to our respective beds in W2.

A slower pace it was this time, but we had no complains. Here’s to the next ones.

[Pasha photos courtesy of Mrs Codger – with thanks!]