Diners and Drivers

In an attempt to maintain life in the fast lane we took ourselves off to Cromer for the day.  Everything was going to plan until lunchtime.  We went into a small café with a sea view.  Joined the queue to order lunch and waited, and waited, and waited.    The queue consisted of only six people so I expected a wait of about ten minutes would be about right.  After ten minutes the there were still six people in front of me,  behind the queue stretched out of the door and into the street.  The six people ahead of me moaned very quietly so as not to upset the solitary serving lady who seemed incapable of outpacing a three legged tortoise and carried on serenely unaware of the ravenous crowd on the otherside of her counter.   Fifteen minutes had elapsed when renewed hope spread along the line of hungry, disgruntled, would – be - diners. The first two people in the queue had succeeded in placing their order for lunch and triumphantly made their way to vacant table to await their meal.  

 After twenty minutes there were only two people ahead of me – behind the queue stretched out of the door and out of view.  It could have stretched halfway to Aylsham for all I knew.   Why I remained in the queue for a further ten minutes I will never know.  Perhaps it was morbid curiosity or possibly that never say die, British bulldog spirit.  I waited and waited, keeping a safe distance from the lady behind me who looked hungry enough to bite my arm off.  I hit the front of the queue after thirty-five minutes and ordered lunch. 

I rejoined my good lady who waited forlornly at our table.  The café was full of people waiting for their lunch.  Spontaneous friendships were formed by the would- be-diners. A single topic dominated the conversation.  Where’s my b****y dinner?

After waiting for a further twenty minutes for our lunch, the smart thing would have been to go to the counter and complain but the thought of enduring another twenty minute wait did not seem worth the effort.

Eventually our lunch found its way to our table which we devoured very quickly.  Not just because we were hungry but because our two hour car park ticket had expired.

After we had fed the parking meter with more cash we made out way into town. We waited to cross the main street until the traffic drew to a halt.  I signalled to a young car driver that we intended to cross and he waved us on.  We had taken just two steps into the road when a failed medical experiment in a Renault appeared at high speed.  The screech of brakes and blue smoke from the tyres told us he was not going to stop and he careered into the back of the young drivers car as we jumped back onto the  safety of the pavement.  The speed and agility of some of the aging pedestrians, myself included, was  quite remarkable.  Then, without warning the failed medical experiment rammed his car into reverse.  Engine roaring, tyres screeching  he hit the car behind him creating a shower of chromium strip and fragments of plastic.    Then he was gone.    The silence was deafening for a moment or two then about twenty witnesses were offering different versions of the hit and run’s number plate.  The second car driver wanted to attack the first driver as he reckoned they were racing each other.

We left the chaos behind us and made our way to the shops to search out some bargains.   After we covered just about four hundred yards my good lady stood on a large stone and turned her ankle.  It was soon very clear that she would be unable to walk back to the car.      I collected the car, picked up my wife and made our way home.  After tea we spent the evening in the “Walk in Centre”.

Really nice day out!