Hotel U Like

HOTEL U LIKE

I'm not at my best in the morning. I like to be alone. I don't like
conversation or people who whistle and I'm totally disinclined toward
those who 'greet the day with a smile'. All I want is tea, toast and a
fag&;#8230;so back off!
I was delighted, therefore, to find the dining room empty save for two
tables: one occupied by a mousy looking woman in her early thirties and
the other by a young couple so bound up each one another that they
presented no threat to my self-imposed isolation. A young waitress came
to my table and I ordered after which she clumped over to the mousy
looking woman, took her order and headed towards the kitchen.
At that moment, the doors swung open and a man entered and it was then
that I knew that it was all over: life, at least for a short time,
would not be the same again. For a start, he was humming and secondly
he was wearing powder blue slacks and a yellow golfing sweater with
those hideous diamonds emblazoned across the chest.
He was my worst nightmare and he was heading towards the table next to
mine.
Just then the waitress reappeared and it seemed that rescue was
imminent.
"Excuse me sir but that's not your table; you have one allocated to
your room number." I wondered if she'd marry me. " Look 'ere young
lady," he replied, "there's no one sitting 'ere and this is where I
want to sit. I paid good money to stop at this hotel and I intend to
sit here, is that clear?" The waitress reddened. "I'll have to check
with the manager." "You do that, I'm sure he'll see my point of view."
As if to emphasise his point of view, he tapped the tabletop in
syncopation with the blade of his knife. The waitress, clearly
flustered, moved to go but had only gone a few steps when he barked at
her back. "And while you're out there you can order me a full English
breakfast with two eggs and white toast," he paused for effect, "that
is, if I'm entitled to it." She nodded and carried on. "And don't
forget the brown sauce, they never expect anyone to 'ave brown sauce at
places like this." This last revelation was directed towards me and he
winked knowingly as he said it in order to gain my complicity. United
Brotherhood of Brown Sauce Sympathisers.
By this time, however, I had decided to look away and not make eye
contact and was staring instead at the mousy woman across the aisle
from me. This turned out to be a big mistake as she caught my eye and
flushed vigorously. Now what had I done&;#8230;she obviously thought
I was giving her what my father always described as, 'The Glad Eye'.
She stared remorselessly into her cornflakes, only daring to dart a
sideways glance at me once. I hoped that she'd caught me studying the
plasterwork on the ceiling, which is what I had decided to do given my
present predicament. There was more than a hint of librarian about her:
flowerprint dress, sensible sandals, cardigan and spectacles. Almost
the full works I observed but not quite&;#8230; for around her left
wrist she wore a plaited friendship bracelet. This, I found to be
slightly incongruous as it suggested shades of Glastonbury and I had
her placed firmly alongside Beethoven and not The Grateful Dead. She
still fidgeted under my scrutiny and picked at her cornflakes like a
nervous finch on the bird table waiting for a cat to pounce. I
carelessly brushed the milk from my whiskers and looked away.
Across the room the two lovebirds were still carrying out their
non-too-elaborate courtship display. They pecked at one another's'
necks and twittered in each other's ear. Their legs were entwined with
beneath the table and they were, ostensibly it seemed, existing as one
body like Siamese twins. Still, that's love for you. Every now and
again the female would giggle hysterically at something sublimely
incautious the male had suggested and then she would, once again, peck
him on the cheek. Once she pecked him very hard on the mouth and it
made me wonder what on earth he could have suggested. I fully expected
them to make the beast with two backs across the hot buttered toast but
judging, sensibly, that crumbs have a tendency to get lodged in the
most inaccessible places, they refrained.
"Where's my bloody breakfast," a voice next to me roared.
"I know where I'd like it to be," I heard a voice say. Worrying really,
it was mine. I'm not at my best in the morning.