BRUM BRUM
After a few rounds on the Birmingham gyratory we found ourselves 'ganning' it, on foot, up and down broad street....where have all the curry houses gone, long time passing?
Last time the assistants were here, long time past, Broad street was lined with curry houses. Every variation: from the super cheap with slightly concerning sanitation, to Balti Houses, to late night ones and ones favoured by older clientele to the posh or expensive ones.  A door-man, at a big ugly 'fun' pub, informed us that most of them have been shut as part of a big tidy up presently happening on broad street...what does that say for the former kitchen conditions? Or.. what does it mean? Tidy Up? What could be more tidy than a huge and varied choice of delicious brummy curries?
We did eventually find them, pointed out by a student club-night promoter, there is a choice of just two now- from what we were led to believe. There is an expensive one that looks very swanky and shiny which apparently serves pretty much identical food to the cheaper one- Bombay Mix.
Bombay Mix was our saviour, we were famished, and not very flush and it looked very nice. One of those slightly neon blue, modern looking shiny new Indian Restaurants, it suited our requirements perfectly. Tasty and reasonably priced food and excellent service from Ikbar who was our new best friend by the time we left- to the point that his boss was getting a bit shirty with him for doing chatting with us for so long.

Within an hour we were back in the van again though and Bristol bound.
HP sauce used to be made in Birmingham.  Apparently you were supposed to, by law, keep your car windows up when passing the factory- but its in the Netherlands now.

BRIZZLE
Any road up- it was a good decision for us to leave, the road was clear and at 10.30pm we'd arrived at Tris's house, a friend of the assistants who was putting them up for the night.

At this point one assistant wanted to play the other game that had been keeping us occupied on our journey. Its loosely entitiled 'oh God, where's my camera?' ( it can sometimes be played as 'oh..my.. god, I've dropped my phone' or ' Jesus, I've lost my purse') It's an age old, or should that be old age, game and needn't have its few rules explained here). Just when we thought we were done for the night we were back on the roads heading towards the dodgy shop we had just stopped at to see if it was there somewhere, (.. anywhere? on the pavement ? picked up by a passing gutter-snipe or a kindly local perhaps, probably, gone forever with the last two days pictures on it?.... nowhere to be seen and definitely not in anyone's bag......) This game is generally won with the words, 'no no, its ok, its erm...its in my bag'.

Enormous relief ensued! And large Vodka and Ginger Beers- Ginger Queers to the initiated. Feet up and chatting for the evening in front of a roaring fire followed. Mose Allison's greatest hits serenaded us all under the watchful eye of an extraordinary Francis Bacon influenced painting with an even more extraordinary story behind it.

We wish hosts such as ours upon you. We were totally spoilt, getting breakfast in bed as well as the most amazing view of the city of Bristol. The Assistants lapped all this up and gathered their slightly addled wits in order to get back into the van for the next leg. Smiling and happy and full of a renewed vigour and strength we drove round and round Bristol city centre missing the signs for the M5 for half an hour or so, before getting on it.