May-hay-ray-jay

“Hey T.C.,” says Benny. “What’s a May-hay-ray-jay?”.

For the last, ooh, fifteen years or so I’ve thought of that line almost every time I’ve walked up Castle Hill past the Maharajah. It still amuses me; it makes the hard, hard climb up the hill just slightly more bearable.

Until tonight I’d eaten at the May-hay-ray-jay only once: I think it was when Sabrina/Mike/Melissa were in Cambridge, which would make it about four-and-a-half years ago, staggeringly.

Anyhow, Bov’s Chrissie is in glorious Ann Arbor, Michigan, which means that Bov’s allowed out for a curry. You can fill in the rest.

Very pleasant, anyhow.

Avaragado’s rating: one tin of 1960s cat food

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