Literary curry, liquid liver
I had the pleasure of being treated to a very fine curry night this week by Iain Banks (with or without his 'M') in the equally splendid company of Ken MacLeod and Adele Hartley (organiser of the excellent Dead by Dawn horror film fest).
Naturally comprising such a refined and educated set, we spent the evening deep in philosophical debate and literary discussion, before retiring after dinner to the billiards room with a glass of port.
And no we didn't just eat lots of very fine Indian food and drink several lochs of booze. Really, we didn't.
Oh, okay, we did. And we didn't play billiards afterwards, but this was for four very good reasons.
One - the Omar Khayam, very fine Indian restaurant though it is, does not possess a billiards room.
Two - we were too full of yummy Indian food to lean over a billiards table if they had one.
Three - we had swilled down too much of the rather nice red wine that the waiters magically knew Iain liked (we know not how since Iain, like most writers of course, is not a regular drinker).
Four - Adele would probably have whipped us all at billiards anyway.
Suffice to say a very good - and late - night was had by all of us, although the next morning may not have been quite so glorious!
Iain and Ken will both be making an appearance at Glasgow's Aye, Write book festival later this month. Ken will be re-enacting the advance of the Red Army during 1944 while Iain dons his flying jacket to play the role of a plucky RAF Sunderland Flying Boat pilot protecting the Arctic convoys on their way to supply that advance. Really. Well, they might.