I try not to eat at the same place at Westfield on shopping day, really I try not to eat the same cake on shopping day. This place I may not go back to unless I need the comfy cushions on the seat. The coffee was so-so (long black, no sugar) and the cheesecake with raspberries not a patch on the last one which had berries in the cheesecake as well as on top. The little serving wench who wouldn't have been out of place in a 17th century tavern, served me the cake on a plate with the fork sticking straight up in the middle of it. It looked as if it had run up the white flag and surrendered to the fat lady. It's not the first time it's happened at this cafe and if they can't put the fork beside the cake why don't they get bigger plates so clumsies like me don't shoot it across the table.
A little old lady (I tell you I'm a magnet for them) wanted to know where I'd bought my dress. "Very pretty", she said and wasn't I clever to make it myself. So she patted me on the shoulder and wandered off while I, in this age of suspicion, checked my bag for my purse. Fagin would be lucky to find, let alone pinch, anything from the bottom of my bag. I could lose a small country in there.
So I come home and check the mile long receipt from the robber barons to find the cat food equals two thirds of the bill, the other third is mine. Okay so I would have trouble living on Whiskas but he's getting it disguised with the expensive stuff. I remembered the wild bird seed which should please the mob at the back door. I am over-run with freeloaders.
I did not buy any chocolate, any biscuits, any coca-cola, anything that would make me happy but fat. I am so good.
11 comments:
Presumably it was open to you to stab her with it. I find Westfields such anodyne places, a little homicide would spice 'em up immeasurably.
Stuck in like a birthday candle. How odd.
Stuck in the cake? How crass. Maybe they expected you to eat it in one gulp? And golly, you should know by now that strangers often strike up conversations with overweight ladies. It's their right.
Well I can't say much (very hush-hush), but I've got a Big Date Saturday week with someone you all know well. That's right. And what a shock. Yes. Well just imagine my astonishment when I found her name in my letterbox this morning. Golly. She wants to meet me at the local town hall. Goodness! And that's all I can say. More later.
-Robert!
(kiss and tell)
Tugs
Toot noisily
Tonight
On the bay.
And I, loving you,
Dark lady of the sonnets,
Always,
And almost,
Forever.
(That could be a hint)
-ROBBERT!!!
YOU'RE DATING CHER?!!!!
I think they deliberately make the floors hard so you have to sit down and have coffee before you fall down. Are you still travelling Phil?
It was very odd Andrew and so was leaving citrus tarts in the display cabinet so dried out they had cracks in them. I should have stuck with the free donuts at DK and they've taken out my favourite pie place for Krispy Kremes. I will be avoiding that place.
RH, It's Naomi Robson? Do we get a prize if we guess? Julia Guillard? Amanda Vanstone wants you to go to Italy with her? I insist that you kiss and tell!
Your Lordship, You wish.
Nup, I'm back and still very relaxed. Give it until about 10 on Monday.
One must be discreet.
Nice photos Phil but you were in Melbourne again and didn't call!
Rh, I'm a gossip maven, now give.
I will tell all on Monday week (if it doesn't make the newspapers first).
-Robert.
That is more than a little rude, shoving your fork in the cake. It is, after all, the chief pleasure in a piece of cake - defiling it with a clean and shiny piece of cutlery.
But then, what would I know? I lost my sweet tooth recently and no-one ever shoves a fork in your schnitzel with mushroom sauce and hide-the-chips.
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