I’ll leave out the negative bits such as the speed the
vehicle was being driven at and the potholes in the road, both of which factors
combined to cause my brow to furrow and my poor injured abdomen to complain in
abject anxiety. And I won’t mention the chilly air and the rain which fell
incessantly the whole time. And I’ll ignore the cobbled alleyways which shook
my poor injured abdomen for a second time until it threatened dire consequences
if I didn’t find somewhere to sit. They’re all the miserable bits, so let’s do
the nice one.
I did find somewhere to sit actually, in my good old Costa
coffee shop where a cup of Americano with cream and a muffin are two of the
rare pleasures available to me at the moment. And do you know what? The young woman
who served me remembered to give me a fork for my muffin rather than the
regulation knife as dictated (rather ineptly in my opinion) by company policy.
Isn’t that something? They remembered me and my
predilections. They even said that the manager had noted my absence.
So here we are with the God of Small Things again. It’s odd
how I take the major things like the existence of the NHS for granted, and yet
the fact that some person remembered that I like a fork with my muffin is a
matter of great significance to me, and one for which I am truly grateful. I
even told them so.
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