I made a late decision to go to THE café this afternoon rather than the back-up café that has taken a more prominent role in my life recently. The way I’m feeling, I really needed to be in my café today. I needed that familiarity (and prompter service). And yes, it’s a Tuesday. Since 2018, curiously, they’ve closed on a Tuesday but this year, for Valentine’s, they’ve changed things around, closing yesterday and deciding to open today for the Valentine’s crowd. Even though it’s the cheesiest day of the year and there was a chance I could be walking into a fromage-heavy atmosphere here today, I felt I just couldn’t not be here.
As I arrived, I saw a ridiculously tall couple leaving the café looking ridiculously pleased with themselves. I suspect their unusual height meant they had worked hard to find each other, perhaps even joining some tall persons-only dating app. It might sound weird but I remember being on an early date once with a girl. We were in a lovely pub round the back of Marble Arch in what must’ve been my final couple of years before going teetotal. I’m talking the late noughties. The night was going well until it became clear that something odd was going on with the punters. Everyone, male and female, was over 6.5” and my hunch was borne out when the barman confirmed we’d stumbled upon a (very) tall persons speed dating night.
It's been a torrid few days, hopefully setting the seal on a downward spiral that has now taken in around ten weeks, ever since the attempted bank fraud that left me struggling for about six weeks because of the Royal Mail strikes.