Bank Holiday fun

There are horrendous things happening all over the world but I wish to report what has fallen short of expectations in my immediate area today. Had a meeting this morning that went ok but got irritated in the car on the way there because of the number of things in my pocket. I removed my wallet and placed it by the handbrake reckoning that would help. Half way there I was breathing like a grampus in the belief that my mobile phone was languishing at home, busily and blatently ignoring important calls. Found my mobile under my wallet but my gratitude was short lived as I quickly returned to my "number of things in pockets" fixation. After the meeting went for lunch at the Royal Oak in Poynings which is a favourite. Today (being bank holiday) there was a definite feeling eminating from the building of "brace yourselves, all we've got to do is make it through the day and we'll have record takings". This was at odds with the actual number of customers present, perhaps they were staying away in anticipation of it being too busy. My fish was a bit small and my chips not properly cooked. When our waitress asked if everything was ok, I explained my problem but she had not been programmed with a response, I might as well have piped up with "that's my brother-in-law, Billy-Bob; he's got the fastest boat on the river", when asked if I had enjoyed my meal. I was also aware of being a little distracted by an enormous man at a nearby table. He had been waiting with his (also very big) partner before the doors openned to the pub. As we sat down he was aleady installed at his table with four bottles of Coke and was wolfing crisps in a determined fashion. His entire meal seemed to be a kind of systematic assault on the dishes placed in front of him. It was chillingly impressive, the relentless dissection, the continuous movement, no talking, just chewing whilst preparing the next forkful, absolutely no rest. I tried to ignore this display but couldn't help myself. At one point I witnessed what I thought was the begining of a pause, but it turned out to be the moment it took to carefully scrutinise his knife before licking it end to end at a steady speed, a speed cleverly designed to maximise matter removal as well as time available to arrange what food remained on his plate, with croupier-like efficiency, with his fork. I am very slightly afraid, just recalling what I saw.

After driving home and doing nothing in particular for a while, we went into town and in due course Carluccio's. My macchiato was definitely not the Milano blend I had ordered and Gemma's cappuccino was effectively a cup of hot slightly soiled milk.