Dinner with Grandpa Potts
After work this evening I decided it was time tovisit the local public house for dinner once again – to have a hot meal if nothing else. The arduous journey – all 100 yards of it – took almost a minute. I was worn out, so thought I better buy a drink.
Ok – I'll stop being stupid. The rest of the world isn't though, but I need to explain.
I wandered into the pub and looked up and down – there were people sitting all over the place. The lady behind the bar also noticed me looking and pointed to a corner leading to an entire part (read: most of) the pub that I had not seen before.
“If you would like to go and sit down, we provide table service”.
I found a table for two tucked around a corner next to a fireplace, and thought “this will do fine” – and sat down. And that's when I saw him. Lionel Jeffries double. There was a slightly portly man – early 60s – sitting across the room from me, reading a Kindle at his table. I almost burst out laughing when a waitress took his order and he sounded like Lionel Jeffries too. If you're struggling to connect Chitty Chitty Bang Bang to this, perhaps I should explain that I was essentially sitting across the room from Grandpa Potts – the lunatic elderly soldier in the movie.
When it came time to order pudding, I stopped what I was doing and listened again. He ordered sherry trifle as a sergeant major might have ordered return fire on the enemy lines. For some reason the girl didn't quite hear him, and he had to repeat himself – barking it this time. I almost spat my drink across the table.
I didn't order a pudding – I very rarely do these days – and besides, if I had ordered the sherry trifle, I would have been bitterly disappointed. It arrived at his table in a small enamel pot – I would have expected a massive pudding bowl full – which is why I didn't order it.
Anyway. I'm back in the hotel room again, wondering what to do for the remains of the evening. Maybe a book. I'm tempted to try and find something scandalous to read. It's been a while since I've read anything other than classics, or modern history.
Maybe – given the encounter with Grandpa Potts – I should buy toy soldiers from the supermarket across the road, and stage an enormous battle across the floor of the hotel room.