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.