I am at the Quay, coffee shop as you can see from the photo I have taken. So much going on. Just seen a couple, young, trendy looking man opens his takeaway coffee too fast. Those lids are sometimes difficult to get off. Anyway the coffee burnt his hand. What could he do, the coffee could not be blamed, he gives his partner an accusing stare, he was not a happy bunny. Finally after all his drama she buys him an Ice cream, clever girl. Everyone happy, but I would give her some advice, he is going to be a nightmare to live with.
Sitting here looking out over the quay I am struck by how awfully civilised the average brit has become. Coffee instead of tea, they really have come a long way. Quite a strong breeze keeping the gulls honest, as they attempt to steal the food off the abandoned tables. Seeing some chips under a table, reminds me of the philosophy of dirt. Imagine yourself off to work in the morning and you see the last of that delicious cream cake is still on the plate. What the hell, impulse gives raise to a spoon in you hand and you dig into the last bit and it falls on the ground. Oh damn, now you have to clean it up. That tempting last slice has gone from something you desired, to a mess on the floor, which you now have to clean up. What is mess actually? Someone once said that mess or dirt is just 'matter in the wrong place'. That cake on a plate is great but on the floor it is no longer a tempting slice but a mess. What the hell, just pick it up and eat it, it tastes the same, wether from a plate or the floor. Just do not let your wife or children catch you, that will take some explaining.
Talking of explanations. I once read that if your dog urinates on the lawn, thus creating bald parches, which the dog does not mind but offend us, you should pick an area away from everything and wee there occasionally. The theory is that your dog will smell it and mark his territory on you wee. Well you can see where this is going, Sam was a master patch maker so I got a small jug and wee'd in it and pour it over the soak away drain, hoping to encourage him to wee on the drain as opposed to the lawn. Seemed to be working until one day I was having a wee into the jug and Robert appeared, 'What you doing Dad?' Words failed me, not sure if he understood my embarrassed explanation, he nodded but with a hint of amusement. Needless to say I shelved that idea and let Sam create his own style of parch work garden.
All for now, till anon, as someone I know, would say. Now he says, ' I will FaceTime you this afternoon'. I still wait for that afternoon.