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Last night we got in the car and headed north up the M6 at rush hour – I thought Mr Rigg had lost the plot, I am not a good passenger in traffic, especially motorway traffic. I had been told we were going out for dinner, but where we were going I had no clue. I thought it must be somewhere pretty damned good if Mr Rigg was brave enough to make me sit in motorway traffic for it.
By now it was clear we were going to Liverpool, but I couldn’t think of anywhere there I wanted to go for dinner. Mr Rigg assured me 2 million percent that I wanted to go to this place – I thought he’d gone mad and clearly mis-heard a restaurant name and we were going to end up at some totally random place. But 2 million percent is a lot to be sure by.
It turns out we were going to Jamie’s Italian – I must confess I didn’t know there was one in Liverpool – and I didn’t realise where we were going until we turned a corner and there it was. Mr Rigg came through.