Yesterday after taking Mum to a medical appointment which ran 45 minutes late to start with, Mum decided that if she didn't eat soon, she would perish on the spot. This actually happens frequently so I wasn't overly alarmed. I looked at my watch and decided that I had 3 hrs to make my plastic surgeon appointment at 1.30. OK MOTHER lets do lunch!
Cafe number 1- Mum decides that it's disgraceful to have to pay for parking as well as food so we move on. ( I sort of agree)
Diversion to pharmacy...time is ticking.
Cafe number 2 - we are greeted with a marvellous array of muffins, lunch time foods and gorgeous seating. I get excited. Mum likes nothing. I get deflated and apologising to the waiters we leave.
Cafe number 3 - Mum does a food reconnaissance and likes nothing. I knew this was coming the minute I saw the quinoa salad. She hates quinoa.
We cross the road.
Cafe number 4 looks inviting but there is not one free seat in the house...so we leave.
We cross back and spot an Italian restaurant. Mum loves Italian anything.
The Italian restaurant is staffed by an Italian god who announces he is 100% Italian, when Mum quizzes him to see if he is the real deal. Mum falls in love and starts telling the man her life history. She also gets an overwhelming desire for pasta.
She takes AGES to choose a pasta because apparently she likes them all. I choose for her and face my own dilemma. There is NOTHING on this menu that a person with a touchy gastric sleeve can eat. I decide that I can pick at a chorizo salad. So we order and we wait.
The next bit is like a movie scene where as the clock ticks the actors are filmed in various positions. I swear that Italian god was growing the wheat to make the pasta to make Mum's lunch. It was taking ages. She was hangry. I was hangry. The world as we know it was ending and I needed to be on the other side of town in 40 minutes . There were 6 million traffic lights between me and the hospital...I needed to take Mum home...the hospital was notorious for bad parking...nothing to be done except ask for a takeaway.
The eyes of the Italian god sank. I had insulted him by asking for takeaway. He has beautiful eyes which any other time I would have been happy to check out further. But, no...fuelled by hanger, I threw Mum and two take away containers in the car and lead footed out of there.
Mum was deposited home safely.
Every traffic light bar one was green. At the red one I opened my overpriced chorizo salad. It looked hideous.
I nibbled on some chargrilled bread and some white gunk fell on my new skirt. Fabulous, now I had a doctors appointment AND a lawyers appointment where I would smell of vomity cheese.
I nibbled on some chorizo, got out of the car and threw the lot in the bin. I do not like processed meat.
Wondering if there was a bottle shop hiding somewhere in the hospital, I headed to my appointment which I arrived at bang on time.
Still hangry.
ST
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