CHAPTER 11: NON SUM QUALIS ERAM..................
“You didn’t tell me your family name was Welsh,” said Randy.
She had suggested coming to this little family-run place tucked beside grander establishments along King’s Cross. Like many of the best Indian restaurants in London, it was naturally, run by a clan of Bangladeshis.
“Afraid so. Comes from ffyll; overgrown, dark, gloomy, shade. Our ancestor had the most unkempt lawn in the village,” Baxt explained, while attempting the extremely complicated task of eating a pani puri and talking at the same time. “That, or he was rather shady.” He failed, tiny droplets of sweet-sour-spicy gravy having invaded the pristine whiteness of his T-shirt.
Randy helped herself to a fragrant spoonful of briyani. “Loop Floggy’s super excited about his new
