Virgulle’s Vestral 105

Thursday 28th June 2012

In the house of the red lion

SO IT was that we disembarked from the taxi outside a house open to the public, in which many people had gathered for the quaffing of beverages and where Brendan, having purchased a drink of orange juice for me and one of black beer, topped with cream, for himself, picked up a folded card from the counter, suggested that we sit on what he called ‘the upper deck’ and led me to a short flight of stairs and an unoccupied table, where I was able both to survey the busy scene below and to scrutinise the writing on the card, as a result of which, following Brendan’s helpful explanations of unfamiliar terms, I discovered that hot dog was not dog, that chilli was not cold but hot, that the ice-cream sundae was not, in fact, available on only one day of the week, and that my choosing the ploughman’s lunch did not mean I would be eating the portion of food reserved for somebody else expecting a healthy repast after a hard morning tilling the soil.

Brendan went back down the steps to inform the hostess which meals we wished to eat.

I gazed at shapes and colours, listened to the hubbub of chatter and laughter: a man giving coins to a machine so it might show him its clever display of flashing lights; three women at a table by the fire, talking excitedly about the contents of large plastic bags emblazoned with the names of shopping outlets; five people standing near the counter, one of them briefly putting over his face a head-mask in the likeness of a chimpanzee, the others laughing; two young men standing by a green-topped table containing a number of red and yellow spheres, which they struck with thin, wooden sticks.

As Brendan was about to return, a woman entered, shouted his name, hurried towards him and kissed his cheek. She was short of stature, fair of hair.

Moments later a tall man with very short, spiky hair, joined their embrace. The man remained by the counter, ordering more refreshments, while Brendan guided the woman to our table.

 

 

 

 

 

Advertisements
This entry was posted in journal and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s