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Miniature Christmas tree, pepper mill, lighted candle. They sat on the table like three wise men or a scene from one of those unutterably dire “incredible journey” movies. An elderly couple arrived and sat at the neighbouring table. She was dressed like a confused goddess, draped in coats, shawls, scarves and things. He was clad almost entirely in black. Jacket, shirt, trousers, shoes, all were black. “Two G&T’s,” he ordered, “Bombay if you have it.”
But the tie, his tie was hideous. Capable of inflicting moral and intellectual damage upon any diner that saw it. Bright red with arty black shapes scattered in wild abandon. I could make out some stars, a couple of squares, numerous squiggles, various giraffe segments and possibly Che Guevara’s head. It probably wasn’t, he was too posh and too Tory for ol’ Che, but it was definitely a head.
His face reminded me of Sam, an old school friend who was affectionately known as “Bam”. A pointless detail, you wouldn’t know him. Her face rabbitesque, her hair phenomenal, a fluffy mushroom-like bouffant precarious on her head. She looked like a rabbit wearing a World War I helmet. I could just about hear their conversation.
“Your top looks nice,” he was saying, “much better than I thought it would.” Talk about digging a hole. Restaurant murder: Wife strangles husband with hideous neck-tie.
I never heard Rabbit’s response. A party of eight clattered in, eight extravagant well-to-do ladies. Flowing dresses, monstrous rings, necklaced to the hilt, designer glasses, massive hair-dos. One of them in a sequined jacket, I thought those things were illegal. The largest of the eight was licking her fingers. I kid you not, it must have been anticipation – no food had been served.
On the way out we had to navigate past two black bears that were fighting in the doorway. Turns out they were old ladies, not bears and they weren’t fighting either, they were grappling with the zips on their giant black fur coats. Easy mistake to make.
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