When we’ve been on holiday as a family, we’ve sometimes looked around the other tables at breakfast time and noted that most of time the occupants are either chatting amicably or - more often with solitary couples - looking as if they are reconsidering their life choices.
We sit there reading, the three of us. We may not be entirely silent. You may hear one of us say , “I find myself utterly captivated by the intricate and masterful manner in which Kate Atkinson intertwines her narratives, crafting them with a subtlety and sophistication that eludes the pedestrian mind” or maybe a “Pass the butter, please”.
I suspect most onlookers - if any - would drop us into the “reconsidering life choices” category, but we’re very happy. We even organised ourselves a Reading Holiday once. We loved it.
So today was Reading Day. No dramatic almost-missed connecting flights; no CAN next my train. I started by walking into the “old town”. This has a very high, very sturdy wall that, presumably, is intended to keep the Bad Guys out. Hopefully they won’t notice the little gaps that allow the Good Guys access.
I stopped for a coffee at what looked like a lovely little cafe en route. It took quite a long time for the waiter to approach my table. While I was waiting, I took a photo although to be honest I had enough time to paint a picture:
Maybe I look threatening or otherwise bizarre, but whereas he brought a menu to every other table, with me he approached and hoisted up one eyebrow, Roger Moore style. I knew what I wanted: “Cafe latte please”. He went off.
I suspect it took a minute or so to make the coffee, and it then loitered for ten minutes before it was delivered to me. Admittedly I hadn’t asked for a hot coffee so maybe I shouldn’t be surprised. The whole episode was disappointing. I’m sure that my experience was atypical: it could so easily have been great,
Move on. There was a park about 1km away so my trusty Kindle and I set off. I found myself a little shady table as set about reading a bit more Kate Atkinson. It was beautifully warm and I was out of the sun, just relaxing. Some time later, I woke up and re-started reading Ms A.
After Kating, I wandered back into the town and discovered a side street I’d not noticed before. After a quick coffee plus pistachio ice cream (you have to, don’t you?) I found a few nice looking restaurants. As I write, it’s 17:00 so the street is earmarked (what an odd expression) for a return visit in a few hours’ time.
Earmarking: apparently it derives from a cut or mark in the ear of sheep and cattle to show ownership. Every day’s a school day.