Despite some SMALL talk with Nostril Flarer as he cleaned up my table (I led on the SMALL talk, beginning with how busy they were), I have yet to get my coffee. I agreed with Flarer that the four-seater I was on could be split so that a woman and her infant, also waiting, could be accommodated. No problem. Split the tables, sure.
She got her coffee and cake.
17 minutes later, I’m still dry.
Why am I always having to wait for service?
I think I’ll add that to one of the many questions for the AFTERLIFE, why was I always prone to poor service, although nothing will ever replace “Why did people accept dog muck on our streets and parks so easily?” Nothing will ever beat that. That is my opening question for the AFTERLIFE. Followed by, “Who was the Whitechapel killer?”
Alright, 15:55hrs – if there’s no coffee by then, I’m going to need to go up to the counter. How long should staff be given before you give up on the coffee coming?
14:45hrs – No need. Muscular Madeiran brings the coffee over on his usual tray.
We make some comfortable SMALL talk, making a point of emphasising each other’s names now that we have officially introduced ourselves to one another. The other day Muscular told me he already knew my name because here they don’t go by table numbers, but by customer’s names (I think I went into this on my ‘This is Not a Podcast’ show but with me not actually telling him my name, it might be he never felt he could openly use my name with me. I guess with Upright it was different. Back at Christmas, she had actually asked me my name, I then asked hers, and we were off. I’m seeing the importance of this these days. I think at some point, you need to have an official exchange of names. Today’s exchange with Muscular feels more natural as we first-named one another and asked how the other is.
I’ve almost finished the opening decaf. It’s coming up to 15:45hrs, though the pedant in me wants to be more specific. It’s 15:42hrs. The girl and the infant have gone. My legs are aching after a good lunchtime 10.5k. It was a little slow after I devoted the opening 3k effectively to circuits while I rehearsed my 20-minute set, seeing if it all dovetailed. I think it does.
Friday Run1kerr action
BIG run, BIG hair.
I returned home, my legs splattered with mud, though I wouldn’t want that south London park mud tested in a lab. The final leg of my route, I stumbled into what was effectively one long steeplechase, the trainers getting soaked as if it were still winter. I had a pre-shower clean up of the mud with some antibacterial wipes, not wanting the shower to take the bulk of the mud, and I was extra thorough cleaning the shower once I was done.
I’m sat over on the right hand side of the back-up café today. I actually prefer this side to the side I originally sit on, but the tables over on this side tend to be four-seaters, unlike over on the left. Being an introvert, I’ll rarely have any call for a 4-seater. I’m sat roughly halfway up the café. Two tables in front of me, two West Indian woman are asked to tackle the mystery ice cream challenge. Nostril Flarer loves doing these. One of the women is concerned about her nut allergy. Flarer assures her she has nothing to worry about.
“What’s the ice cream then?” She asks.
Well, to reveal it would completely undermine the ice cream challenge, wouldn’t it?
You and I of course have known for the last fortnight that the mystery ice cream is banana, and in ice cream form it’s actually a lot nicer than the fruit itself.
Flarer recovers quickly from the mystery ice cream challenge snub. A kid comes in with his mum and Flarer immediately signs them up for the challenge. Hopefully at some point someone will deliver my second coffee. Upright’s been off most of this week and while she can often forget to bring over the second coffee, her floor coverage skills are superior to Flarer’s and Muscular’s. She’s a bit busier on the floor, know what I mean?
Meanwhile, across to my left, a young man with an impressively thick and clean looking big beard talks loudly on his phone. These loud talkers kill me. How does this happen? How does one think this is how to talk on the phone in a public place?
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Noel Gallagher was pictured in the media, once again in the Man City dressing room with their victorious players following Wednesday night’s win over Arsenal. I hate that this guy gets dressing room access just because he’s famous. If I were famous, and that meant I was given access to the kitchens at THE café, I wouldn’t be interested. Why is this man invited into the City changing room just because he’s famous? I have a similar pet hate for pictures of famous people together. Last month I happened upon some article, an interview with another musician, talking about how (I think) the deaths of two famous musician friends affected him? Why do these people when they become famous never seem to talk about the old normal friends they grew up with?
I’m off to the nearby library. It’s just two minutes away. I’ve seen that they have a Paul Begg (the best writer on The Whitechapel Murders) book on their shelves. My library book borrowing habit had been under control for the last month but as is often the case, when the melancholy deepens, my library habit spirals out of control.
Flarer’s voice from the back of the café stirs me out of my bookish thoughts. “You have three attempts,” I can hear him say as this group become the latest to take the mystery ice cream challenge or whatever the f*** it’s called. I think if relationships could excite me half as much as books do, I might have had a chance of holding down a relationship.
With Upright away, my exit SMALL talk might need more than usual today. Flarer and Muscular tend to like a longer exit chat with customers whereas Upright, I like her style. She doesn’t even fall back on seques to shut an exchange down. She just closes her mouth, smiles, indicating the dialogue is at an end then you wish one another a nice evening.
Quality.
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