Cup, Mug, Bowl

The waitress had set down a teapot, a jug of milk, some flapjacks in a bag, a sort of ceramic paint palate that I think was the plate, and a bowl.

I thanked her and she went back inside.

I looked at the rectangular slab with the hole in it and thought that it might be right with cheese on it perhaps, but decided to eat the biscuits straight from the packet the waitress had brought them in rather than use the palate plate. It reminded me of an office party years ago when the caterer had arranged for the snacks to be served on mirrored tiles and everyone made a point of mentioning what a ‘fancy’ and ‘interesting’ (pretentious?) idea that was. 

Then I checked out the bowl, swivelling it round in case there was a handle that I’d missed that would make it an extra large cup. There wasn’t a handle so I wondered if possibly the bowl was for putting the used teabag in or something.

Certain that the waitress would be back any minute with a mug, I played around with my phone.

She didn’t return and the penny dropped that I was supposed to drink out of the bowl.

I don’t know what stopped me from going in and asking for a takeaway cup with a lid as I’d certainly have felt less self-conscious using that type of non-handled beaker for a drink.

Whilst inside, I could conduct a straw poll to see if anyone else felt a bit silly eating off a ceramic oblong and drinking from a bowl and if they did, then I could - in a non-threatening way - feed the info back to the management and suggest that it’s okay for them to use ordinary plates, cups and mugs; no one will hate them for it.

Aware that my tea would soon turn from hot to warm to undrinkable and that I could still retrieve some value from my five pounds fifty including service if I hurried up, I chose to let go of my inhibition, grasped the bowl with my fingers and drank back some tea as confidently as if I took it like that all the time. 

A few more gulps like this and the pot was drained. I then stuffed the remaining flapjacks in my bag for later, paid and left and the thought came to me - maybe the bowl had been meant for the teabag after all.

Christmas Day

Is it compulsory for someone to get a slinky for Christmas? I think that maybe it is.

We're almost at the end of Christmas Day in this time zone and after an earlier than expected start this morning, I'm about ready to turn in. But before I head bed-ward I just wanted to say that I hope you've had/are having/will have a lovely day.

Happy Christmas to all and thank you so much for visiting. 

Misty London Town

100 Words: Style Counsel

I haven't taken off my jacket even though I've been home for ages. Covering up has become a comfy habit I can't shrug.

My children suggest a makeover involving lipstick and dresses and a face mask of fruit they saw being made on TV.

I look in the mirror, smile at their hopes and try to bend a length of hair across my forehead to see if I'd suit a fringe.

"What do you think?"

"Go on mum - take a risk, make an effort. Otherwise you're always just going to be a forty year old woman in a coat."

Postcard From London

The South Bank from Golden Jubilee Bridge.

Late Night Link

I was just about to publish a post when I read this. So very touching.

100 Words: Goodbyes

You packed for a holiday - Tio Pepe, wine, fudge, and books. Your summery linen tops and trousers reminders of warm evenings in Greece, people-watching from the balcony.

You'd cleared your flat of any evidence of pills and illness - no telltale bedside boxes of  unpronounceable pain killers or sticky plastic spoons. 

I must admit it was a shock seeing you disguised as someone else in borrowed pyjamas, even though the nurse assured me you'd picked them out yourself. Funny - we had you down as a nightie lady.

But then you always were a bit surprising - I'd no idea you liked fudge.