Today rather than go to a Chinese lunch I tried a Nepalese inspired
lunch. The cafè is ran by Nepalese who haven't quite got the hang of
spelling English. Bacon was spelt as Beckon, and Chow Mein as
Choumean. At first it was confusing as I saw the menu and the words and
had a problem reading them. I mean it's not what it says but rather
what it sounds like. Thankfully the pictures were a good clue and the
taste of the chicken fried rice did not reflect the same errors as the
misspelt words. None of it was mean in any sense of the word, wicked
might be used but not mean. It was fresh, the plate of food wasn't as
large as I usually get but these Nepalese people are somewhat shorter
and smaller in stature so their portions probably reflect this. Big fat
Europeans like big fat portions of food, we are following the
transatlantic trend in food size, and related illnesses as well. It wont
be long before we are called the Big Bums of the World. No mean feet
for such a small country, but ever growing faster country (UK).
So
meal finished and I sit in a nice pub, which normally isn't as busy as
it is today. Where have all these people come from I ask myself? It
must be the sun, a little sun and every Tom, Dick and Harriet have to
get out to enjoy it, I wish they didn't have to enjoy it in my pub
though. It's too busy. People make noise. Adults bring children, and
children are even more noisy. Humbug. A baby crawls about the floor
while it's mother stands guard watching where it goes. One arm in front
of the other, it marches in goose step fashion, corduroy dungarees
shine the lacquered floor. Another woman comes in with a pram. For the
toffs a baby is another fashion accessory. Humbug. All this
disturbance and the constant din of voices around me is bad enough, but
it's been rounded off by a new member of staff giving me a coffee like
nats piss. Therefore the coffee last longer than any normal coffee
should last. It may even go a little cold. The pub will lose out giving
me nat's piss coffee, for it has the power to make my wallet tight,
tighter than a hundred year old clam. Humbug. I dislike pretentious
clientèle as much as people who esteem their working class as though it
is a badge wrapped up in a blanket of ignorance. I can never understand
why many working class people don't strive for self education. It is a
breath of fresh air to hear a voice of intelligence and reason in any
situation, it cuts through toffs and the highly ignorant working class.
But unfortunately is despised by both classes. Education doesn't just
level a field it rises above it, so does the ability to voice an opinion
in the face of perceived authority. When in reality nobody has
authority, it's all perceived.
During one
conversation this week, chatting to Sparkling while in a Humbug mood,
which I couldn't shake off, she started to sing Monty Python's "Always
Look on the Bright Side of Life," a half smile erupted on my face. Then
Sparkles began the whistling bit, the singing was funny the whistling
not. The conversion of high frequency sound waves over two mobiles led
to an awful screech which went through my head and echoed on the way
out. I nearly fell over by the impact. It could of been a grenade
exploding right next to my ear, it bowled me over. It hurt. I didn't get
out of the blues; but sometimes you can only remove such feelings by
re-viewing the world, the experience of it and by stop being an idiot.
Yet the idiot hat can get super glued to your head and be difficult to
remove. A little like a Humbug attitude, they're one and the same
really.
The coffee lasted an hour, half a pint later
and I'm feeling quite a bit chilled. Yep, my view of the world has
changed. People who had invaded my hideaway retreat from the stresses
and strains of life have gone as well. Eaten their overpriced lunches
and ran back off to their overpriced homes. Even the taste of Humbug is
going. What was that line again? Always look on the bright side of
life...
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