ARRR! Dear oh dear. My fa meal ya or my family, not the collection of father, mother, sister, brother. No, a collection of what is left of distant and vague or perhaps strange… no not any word describes it.
We are having a lunch and because they all work harder at this fiasco called society than I, so I must go to them, and no doubt they will spend exorbitant amounts on lunch as opposed to lunch time and they will get the shits with me because I am me.
I have just got back from my lunch time extravaganza. Let me tell you about it. I was picked up at twelve thirty by my mother’s brother in his Mercedes Kompressor. Upon entering the car, his little show dog Barney, a terrier tried to intimidate me by barking furiously at me, which then set the tone for further intimidatory tactics employed in conversation. Needless to say I just did my best not to invoke conversation too much. We had to meet my sister at one o’clock, which we did, and sat down at a cafe come eatery.
I ordered a sandwich. The other two had a meat pie and a bowl of pasta, all served with chips and salad with the exception of my sanger. I also had a coffee, a long black (which was full). The others had similar beverages.
The conversation went from drawing exception to the waiter, who referred to my uncle as ‘mate’, to his impending trip to China with a Chinese art dealer at the end of the week and back to the presumptuous waiter who also was a big fan of piercing and was in the process of increasing his ear lobe surface area much like the Zulu natives of South Africa do. A place my uncle had visited five times and he was drawing exception with the waiter’s whiteness (disrespect).
Oh well you get that. So we get through lunch and the bill arrives, but not until after the owner of the establishment was engaged in a conversation about the service and quality of the lunch. ‘Mate’.
Seventy-six dollars mate. Maaaaaaate!
They thought this quite reasonable. What were they on? Nothing like tightening the old belt.
Luff Chiffon xxx