Here’s a pic of my old stomping ground in Northbridge. Yes that’s the shop where I nearly became number 22 on the menu, lucky I was all scrawny and oily otherwise I was a goner. And next door is the butcher who threw me scraps of meat to keep me alive. Can’t see old chubby checker around but I’m sure he’s about somewhere. I can thank my lucky stars that I was saved and now I can drink corona whenever I like.