Yet again my fragile relationship with food and drink has come to bear upon the day. A day which was full of such buoyant promise, sorely punctured. Perishable goods seek to undermine me at every turn.
It began well enough at sweet and savoury outlet, The Crepe Vine. First plumping for the Banoffee Crepe, i switched on recommendation to Chunky Monkey (a crepe filled with banana and honey, sprinkled with cinnamon). The first mouthful was simply divine. Warm and sugary flour egg, with cool vanilla. Yum. But then i noticed how the plate was laughing at me, mocking me, with two dollop eyes of ice and whipped cream, and a half-moon smile of pancake. It was whispering accusations into my ears, questioning my good character. I was furious. I clenched my fist, ready to bash the dessert into the table, when i caught myself in the full-length mirror. I asked myself, ‘Does it seem reasonable that a dish of food would be taunting you?’ Probably not. I finished my meal and left without tipping.
If that was the end of it then i would have thought to have got off lightly. But it was not to be. Later, in the Japanese oriental gardens, there was an altercation with a squirrel over an ice lolly wrapper.
Being a fine citizen, i picked up the litter and strolled towards the rubbish bin. However, the furry rodent had been eyeing up the sticky plastic, keen to lick at the sugary coating. Leaping with its gums pulled back over its sharp teeth, the little cunt bit down on my ankle, bringing me to the ground. I don’t know if you have ever been lacerated by a common grey, but let me tell you, it is sheer bloody agony. And they don’t let go, not matter how hard you punch.
The wound is now infected, and i fear i have become quite delusional. On the limp home, the wind whistled across the neck of the cola bottle i was drinking and spoke of Turkish politics. Imagine that! Turkish communist propaganda, if you please. Tomorrow i will remain indoors with a simple jam sandwich.
Here’s the Japanese oriental gardens, scene of brutality…