Gone Fishin' with Belinda and Yo

I woke up this morning with a craving for, among other things, fish and chips.

I had the day off work and thought it would be fun to take a stroll for some battered brunch down to GO Fish on False Creek near Granville Island.  Go Fish’s venue  is a tiny little blue hut right at the Fisherman’s Wharf and there is always  a massive line up outside of it.  The last time I ate here, which was last summer with my Aunt Carla and Uncle Peter, we got nasty attitude from the girl who was calling out the orders and I had not been back since.  While the service left a poor taste in my mouth, the haddock did not, so I decided it was time to give them another chance.

It was almost noon and my stomach was roaring. I called up my friend Yolanda. A sleepy voice on the other line answered. “Hello?”

“Are you up yet?”

“Ughhh…”

“Yolanda, it’s almost noon! What time did you go to bed?”, I asked, getting hungrier by the second.

“I think it was four…”.

Yolanda is a night owl.  I am not. “OK, listen, you wanna go to Go FIsh? We could split a double order of the haddock. Or cod even, maybe. I’m easy. Oh, and could you bring Belinda? I haven’t seen her in a while.”

Belinda is Yolanda’s puppet. When we hang with Belinda, fun adventures ensue.  I hadn’t really seen her since Christmas Eve.  Belinda showed up with a bottle of Captain Morgan’s Spiced rum and the last thing I remember before things got really blurry for me,  was Belinda passing out on the kitchen floor in a puddle of her own vomit.  It wasn’t pretty.  But aside from that, it was a pretty fun night.

I changed into a suitable frock and slathered on the SPF 30.  I got a terrible burn at the Kits pool several weeks ago, that my legs were still peeling from.  Not classy.  I knew that I probably should have put on a my sensible Stetson panama hat, the sun was already blazing, but I opted for a cute, sisal, pink, mini beret instead.  I haven’t been out of the house much in the past month, and I wanted to feel summery and girly and not the disheveled hermit that I have become as of late.  I grabbed my shades and made my way to False Creek leaving a trail smelling of coconut and anticipation in my wake.

By the time Yolanda and Belinda met me at Go Fish, the line up was already snaking around the corner.  We decided on each getting our own order of cod.  The notion of sharing just made my hungry belly far too angry.  An hour and three more sunscreen applications later we finally got to the order window. I could feel my stomach starting to eat itself, I was so hungry.  The woman who was taking orders looked familiar. I wondered if she was the same lady as last summer.  I approached with caution and the biggest smile I could muster, without looking too insincere.

“Hello! I would like to order one piece of cod, chips and extra coleslaw please, and may I also have a San Pellegrino?  The orange flavor one. Thank you.” I beamed at her.

She wrote everything down on her order pad and I handed her my money.  She barely glanced at me.  There must have been about 5 people in that hot little grease-filled hut.  They gingerly danced around each other, preparing orders and wiping their brows.  How they all didn’t suffer from massive 3rd degree grease burns is beyond me.  The floor looked slippery and dangerous and I knew that it wasn’t the sort of work environment that my clumsiness would take for more than five minutes before I found myself face down in the broiler. EEE!

It took at least another 20 mins for us to get our food which was delivered to us sans attitude.  I loaded up my chips with malt vinegar, grabbed a wedge of lemon and we made our way over to a patch on the Sea Wall where we made our little camp.

“Did you bring her?”

Yolanda produced a very tired looking Belinda out of her bag.  I was delighted to see her.  Belinda doesn’t really say much and her expression never really changes.  She is in a perpetual state of happiness, though Yolanda seems to think she looks more like she is silently screaming.  In any case, seeing Belinda always puts a smile on my face.  I happily tucked into my food. First up: the coleslaw. Fail!!!  Why did I order an extra helping of this horse shit? It tasted like a can of crushed ass.  What the…?  This was NOT the same coleslaw that I had last summer.  I was so disappointed.  I set it aside and hoped that the cod would redeem the vileness that had infiltrated my taste buds.  It was mediocre.  A little too much batter and not enough fish for my liking.  The chips, albeit a bit cold, were nice and tastey, though.  On the whole, the meal was welcome, because I was soooo hungry, but not a memorable one, in terms of taste.  No matter, fish and chips are not a craving I rarely get more than once a year and that may be because when I lived in Scotland, I ate it almost every day.  Now THERE were some good fish and chips…yum.

Under the Bridge

The three of us went for a walk around Granville Island to work off our greasy meals.  Aside from molesting some heirloom tomatoes in the Public Market, Belinda was quite well-behaved. This is the first time we hung out with her where she didn’t get banned from any of the venues we visited for disorderly conduct of any sort.  I  think she must have been suffering a hangover, as she seemed rather quiet, but it was nice to spend some time with her.  And Yolanda.

Despite the multiple applications of SPF 30, I did end up getting a slight tan line and I can feel that I have developed at least 23 new freckle on my face and 7 on my back.  Not a terrible price to pay for a delightful afternoon in the sun getting greased up on Granville Island.