An irregular, irreverent, post-modern account of the surreal, the ordinary, and the bizarre happenings on and around the Felia lavender farm in Crete

Wednesday, November 29, 2006

Fry Up up

Must've taken me all of two minutes to get round to Sultan's. Well, at least it didn't rain. The builders had done breakfast and hadn't got back for lunch yet so the place was quietly deserted - plates cleared, floor swept, tables cleaned - worn out formica shining in the harsh overhead lighting - spotless. Ali was behind the jump scraping burnt fat off the griddle - getting ready for the next rush. "Hello Maisy - where's Merril?"
"Merril does Thursdays you big dope - it's Friday - just me today, June's at the clinic so I'm on me Jack Jones - no looking down Merril's top for you you mucky little git."
"Hi Ali" - Ali grins and nods
"Hello mister Charlie - no sushi today?"
It's an in joke and I won't bore you with it.
"What's it to be Chas? Coupla rashers in a bap?"
"No Maisy, not today.
Ali do me the works will you? Three sausages, 5 bacon - streaky not back - chips, beans, mushrooms, fried tomatoes - not those shitty tinned things - fried onions and stick a couple of slices of fried bread on too."
"You on a diet mister Charlie? No black pudding?"
"Oh go on then, just a couple".
"D'you want some toast Chas?"
"Leave it out Maisy - what sorta gannett d'you think I am?"
"How many sorts are there Chas? - anyway - who's springing for this one you tightwad?".
"Fat George gave me a bet to put on but I stuck it in me pocket - loser".
"The nag or George?"
"Both Mais, both - one born every minute - no skin off my five though - gissa fag Mais"
Maisy reached into the pocket of her pale blue overall and produced a packet of Bensons.
"Go on - take one for Ron too. I'll get you an ashtray."
"Ta darling - you'll get your reward in heaven ... unless you come round to my place later ..."
"You wish lover boy ... I'd make mincemeat of you. No, I'll stick with Sid thanks ... he knows how to make a lady feel special ..."
"Your loss Maisy but that's life ... now put that ashtray down and clear off for a bit willya? Got a new job on ... gotta think"
"OK Chas OK - you want tea or coffee?"
"Coffee - Black - ta - make it a mug will you?"
Five minutes later the coffee turned up and Maisy stayed mercifully quiet when she put it down - she emptied the ashtray too. And then it was "grub up". Well, I was more than ready for it and demolished the whole lot in v short order. All that grease and vinegar did me the world of good I'm telling you - put a lining in my gut no probs.
"Thanks Ali - that was smashing - another coffee if you don't mind".
And there I sat with Maisy topping up the coffee regularly until the hairy arsed building crew that's ripping the guts out of the old laundry prior to turning it into another gated community for the yuppy incomers. Pretty much as soon as they began to dribble in it got way too noisy to think properly - why don't the blokes who want to talk to each other sit together? How much is there to discuss about the tits on page 3 any way? And the "politics" - don't get me started on that ... So, I slipped Maisy the tenner and shoved the bacon sandwich that Ali had made me in my jacket pocket. Stick that in the microwave later - drop of OK sauce - that'll do for tea. Brain food. The windows have started to steam up and the cigarette smoke has begun to fill the top foot or two of the fuggy cafe as I push out into the street past a couple of burly brickies covered in mortar who are clearly in a hurry to get at their grub.


1 comment:

  1. At the risk of offending the author - not meant, I assure you - this episodic tale reminds me of Len Deighton and his anti-hero played so admirably by Michael Caine.