Goals

I missed three buses on my walk to the bus stop, irritating.

There’s a cafe next to the stop and I’ve been let off the diet leash this week, or it’s been slackened a bit at least. So a bacon roll on the go, I thought. At the counter I changed my mind, bubble and squeak with a fried egg on top. Oh, the wonder of it. I needed to sit down.

This cafe is top class, in fact if it was in Primrose Hill and they lost the glossy, back lit, breakfast choice menu images and the regular clientele, it could pass for smart.

I would guess that the owner is Greek or his parents are. Surprisingly, considering the healthy nature of their native cuisine, many Greeks seem to have an affinity with fried foods. Apparently, Cafe Man’s dad set up a couple of cafes, his sons took them over, although one has given up on the cafe business, covid was the last straw, and now works for Rentokil. His dad is necessarily back on the job and a bit pissed off about it.

It’s amazing what you can pick up from second hand conversations.,

The customer after me entered saying to all, did you see that shit show on tv last night? Well, I did, I imagine I thought it was shit for different reasons to his. You see, I think that all sport on tv is shit, whereas he was referring specifically to the poor performance of the national team during the England v Scotland, some kind of European football event, match, thing.

Why oh why can’t England produce a decent national team when it produces individually good footballers? He was asking the wrong woman obviously, he needs to discuss this with Cornflake.

Who was the programming genius who scheduled Brave Heart straight after the match?

Unfazed by the result, of the match or the movie, Scottish supporters continue their three day piss up around Kings X. They’ve been holidaying mostly at the station, drinking from the morning rush hour through to late night. Wrapped in the blue flag with a white cross, wearing kilts with patterned socks, trainers and assorted playful sporrans, I worried it was a bit chilly for kilts. I was forgetting that these are Scotsmen. A sartorial train wreck, they’ve seemingly been really enjoying themselves. They even managed some tuneful singing, I couldn’t catch the words but that is possibly a good thing.

If their goal was to not lose completely, to entertain/horrify commuters in equal measure and to give the metropolitan police some good overtime opportunities, the Scottish supporters are winners indeed.