Mid-afternoon on New Year's Eve, and the crowd at the Wright Brothers oyster and porter house is in a maudlin mood. The middle-aged couple to my right are holding hands and talking in hushed tones, while the middle-aged couple to my left, who had been discussing ski trips just a moment ago, are suddenly locked in a teary embrace. Everyone is on their next bottle of wine – everyone, that is, but me. Feeling a pang of loneliness and melancholy, I finish up my pint and leave.
I have an urgent need for cheese.
'I'm sorry, we're closed,' says the young chap in an apron at Neal's Yard.
'Closing,' I correct, hopefully. 'Please. I'll be in trouble if I don't get some stilton for tonight....'
I am an artful liar when I need to be, but the young man doesn't require much arm-twisting to relent.
As I leave with my contributions to the cheeseboard safely packaged under my arm, I find myself overcome by a strange sense of smugness at having been their last customer for the year.
Sometimes it's the small victories that count!
No comments:
Post a Comment