I’m off to lunch with a former teacher. I am aware that the term is ‘old’ teacher, but this teacher is not old (and I’m still a terrible suck-up). We’re going to a pub just by my old school (the school cares less about the ageing process). I am terribly excited. I have passed this pub thousands of times. I have been inside it precisely once, at lunchtime, after the very last day of school. I was dressed as a school girl. (Our school didn’t have a uniform, we had chosen voluntarily to dress up as school girls. My hair was in pigtails. It seems I was channeling Heidi.
A sort of lightly smashed Heidi. Who was absolutely thrilled to be in the pub on a school day). I was drinking southern comfort and lemonade, which I told everyone was ‘a very refreshing summer drink’. The barman did not seem to care as much as I had assumed he would. I was 18 years old, but being in the pub the teachers frequented was all a bit too adult for me. Someone ordered crisps, which I refused to eat in a bid to seem more ‘grown-up’. I was an idiot. Luckily, I am getting a second chance. Today I will be far more grown-up. Gosh, I hope I get to pop into the staffroom. I hear they have excellent biscuits.
My friend looks startled. ‘It’s very good,’ she tells me. ‘But it’s expensive and hard to get a table.’ ‘Oh perfect!’ I say. ‘Let’s call them.’
‘We can seat you at 7pm,’ the lady tells me. I stop glaring at my friend. ‘Great! But I’ll be there at 6.30pm. You know, because of the theatre,’ I tell her helpfully. The lady is silent. ‘Why don’t you come at 6.45 pm?’ she says finally. ‘You can have a drink and look at the menu before we seat you.’ ‘There’s a bar!’ I whisper excitedly to my friend. ‘I mean, sure, yes, sounds good,’ I say to the lady nonchalantly. I hang up, and text my Father.
I wonder if I should call the lady at the River Café and add an extra person to my reservation? She didn’t really seem like someone who was particularly adaptable. Probably best to just grab an extra chair. I imagine I can just casually take one from the bar to our table. My Father will be so impressed with my restaurant booking skills.
I take out some plates and set the table. My friend serves our lunch on different plates. I remove the plates I have so considerately placed on the table. ‘So,’ I begin musingly. ‘You know how you promised to come with me next Tuesday to this stand-up comedy gig?’ My friend pales visibly. Though that could be because I have just poured half a litre of deliciously expensive orange and raspberry juice into my glass. 
‘Oh yes, it’s very good. Want to try it?’ The other patient stood up excitedly. The two of them spent the next 10 minutes swapping turns on the walking aid, commenting on the experience at ear-bellowing levels. ‘IT’S VERY LIGHT.’ ‘I WILL ASK THE DOCTOR FOR ONE.’ ‘YOU MUST STAND CLOSER TO IT.’ The pair of them strode into the corridor, where the doctor fell over them. It was with some reluctance that I went in to see my doctor, and I spent most of my appointment giving a well-rounded assessment of the walking aid demonstration I had just seen. (I think the doctor was still cross about his altercation with it, because he was very reluctant to let me have one). ‘I can’t believe I thought waiting rooms were boring,’ I told the receptionist as I left. ‘I’ll be back tomorrow.’
This morning I popped to the library to return a book and take out another one. (I don’t want to boast, but I’ve really got this library thing down). On my way back, I noticed that my local pub was curiously empty. The tables outside it, usually filled with ‘friends I just haven’t met yet’, gleamed invitingly in the sunlight. There was a little sticker on the window: free wifi available here. I rushed home.
‘Oh,’ I said. I wondered briefly if I could take my builder’s iPhone with me to my new office, ‘the pub’. I didn’t really know what the protocol was for these types of situations. (It reminded me of the week I was convinced my cleaner was washing her knickers in my washing machine. I knew it wasn’t usual, but I wasn’t sure if it was worth making a fuss about). I decided to make some food while I considered what to do. (Winter has really upset my eating habits. Yesterday I made dinner at 5pm because it was dark, so I assumed it was 7.30pm. It’s good preparation for being an OAP I guess, but is wreaking havoc on my body clock).
unfashionablylost 