A phalanx of baristas and customers seeking a caffeine hit surround me as I commence this missive. A south Leeds retail centre’s café affording me a domain to place my buttocks, rehydrate and stir whatever creative juice pool I can muster.
After tweaking my back yesterday afternoon, this journaling accompanied by intermittent lumbar spasms. Stretching to place my vehicle’s new MOT certificate in the glove compartment straining muscles close to my left kidney.
The injury diminishing the verve borne from learning my motor had recently been deemed roadworthy for another twelve months. Oh well, as the Book of Job (1:21) says in the King James Bible ‘The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away’ … In (1:22) Job going on to show incredible foresight when advocating ‘Taketh great care of thou back went filing away thine MOT certificate’.
With the painful episodes only manifesting during certain movements, the pain I am suffering isn’t constant. Only specific twists and turns of my torso causing me to yelp and grimace in discomfort, the resultant gurning face no doubt raising alarm for onlookers.
On an adjacent table a woman and a younger lady (who I assume to be her daughter) are nattering at such a high audio level it’s hard not to eavesdrop. The mother has just asked the teenage daughter how her trip for a new set of teeth in Turkey went.
Hearing this, I can’t help feeling, with her progeny’s large pristine whites clearly visible, surely it was an unnecessary enquiry. I mean, they are so white you could project movies on her gargantuan front tooshies.
Following a slight movement to my left, a sharp back pain just temporarily rendered me breathless. Karma perhaps for my unkind dental observation in the previous paragraph.
Gasping to return my respiratory system back to normal, I have just pulled a face I’d imagine a hippo would exhibit when being circumcised without anaesthesia.
The girl who has just had her nashers sorted in eastern Europe, and her mother, have just vacated the nearby table. Their seats now taken by two women who appear to be having a business meeting. The power-dressed ladies feasting on croissants, cappuccinos, and the souls of their underlings.
Their conversation aren’t as audibly clear as the table’s previous incumbents; however, I have heard use of business speak terms such as “Blue Sky thinking”, “Kaizen approach”, “Let them eat cake!”, and “Better out than in!”… However, I guess that last comment may have been related to one of them expelling flatulence, not corporate strategy… Although, who knows these days.
In all reality, though, the duo are likely saying nothing more sinister than “Have you seen that fella on the next table?… He has just pulled a face a hippo would pull when being circumcised without anaesthesia!”
As I am scheduled to attend a horse racing meeting tomorrow, yours truly is praying my sporadic lumbar issues will ease in the next twenty-four hours. I’d venture even the numbing effects of several course-side lagers won’t assuage my current sporadic discomfort.
With the clock recently turning midday, traffic in the coffee house has increased. Consequently, the volume of people for me to watch has augmented markedly.
On the table next to the adjacent the women’s business meeting is a hard of hearing old man and his wife Nora. GJ Strachan party to her name through the fella’s loud vocal delivery.
“WHAT YOU WANT TO EAT, NORA?” the old chap just yelled.
“I’ll have a currant teacake and a pot of tea, George. Stop shouting though, love!” Nora retorted at a normal audible volume.
“I AM NOT SHOUTING, NORA… I’M SICK OF YOU ALWAYS BLOODY NAGGING ME!”
“You don’t realise how loud your voice is!… You can both lip read so it isn’t necessary to yell, love!”
“TEACAKE AND POT OF TEA THEN, NORA?”
“Yes, what you going to order, George?”
“CHEESE PANINI AND A LATTE… RIGHT, I AM GOING TO THE COUNTER TO ORDER IT.”
“There is probably no need, love… You talk that loud they’ve probably heard the order and are already preparing it.”
At his spouse’s playful putdown, the old man shook his head in despair before heading towards the counter. While he dodders counter side, Nora performs a similar frustrated headshake.
Anyhow, as there are café customers looking for seats, and I have tied this table up for ages, I best bring my latest people watching testament to a conclusion.
Just prior to closing my laptop I hear a loud voice counter side, “NORA, THEY’VE RUN OUT OF TEACAKES!… DO YOU WANT A SCONE?!”
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