It all started with a dirty fork In a cafe, which had taken an age to settle upon A family run affair, with each member pleased to see you His weekly breakfast taken, in the same window seat A variety of characters shared in their own dining experience Overheard conversations were as you’d imagine He…… Continue reading it all started with a dirty fork
Looking at how I set out my table when in a cafe, I will concede to the casual observer something evident to uggest behaviour akin to OCD. I rationalise this, by telling myself the layout is practical, logical, of good composition – easy on the eye and serving a good purpose in terms of energy…… Continue reading the waitress part 1
“You’re a tall one!” The man said, catching my attention as I weaved my way through the crowded cafe dining area, busy with the lunch time rush hour. Acknowledging his comment, I smiled and sat down in a vacant seat at a small table next to his. Although struck by the broadness of his midriff, pronounced…… Continue reading cafe philosophy
“Good morning!” she said, gingerly lowering the plate into place and sitting down in front of the writer. Surprised, the man spluttered something unintelligible and in the confusion knocked over the salt-cellar, spilling most of its contents across the table and onto Mia’s lap.
In celebration, I perform an aerial somersault and land on top of his head smack-bang in the middle. (read more)