The tea shop

Leonard was not in a good mood. Although he considered himself to be a man of near-perfect temperament, even he realised he was not entirely happy. The trip to town had not gone well.

In the end he had decided to take all the little crutches into town with him, mainly because of the sympathy vote that he was expecting from the old dears.

He had stashed three of them on his back like Samurai swords and used the other two in a more conventional fashion. But they had not stopped chattering all the way into town. Even the two that were supporting his heavy weight were laughing and giggling.

When they arrived in town, he took the three off his back, lined up all five little crutches in a row, and gave them a stern talking to. They were NOT to utter one word in the tea shop. The little crutches immediately fell silent. There were times when Leonard was not to be argued with. Most times in fact.

Leonard limped into the tea shop using one crutch and carried the other four in his other hand. He thought he would look rather stupid with three crutches stashed on his back. Also there was a strong chance that he would knock things over or poke someone in the eye. Leonard was naturally clumsy at the best of times, let alone with a broken leg and five crutches.

The tea shop was buzzing with lots of tittle-tattle from people who had nothing better to do with their time than sit around and gossip in tea shops.

Leonard negotiated his way to an empty table with some difficulty, and propped up the quiet and well-behaved little crutches against the wall. One of them promptly fell over. The others tried hard to suppress their giggles and Leonard glared at all of them. He picked up the offending crutch and turned to the menu.

He glanced round casually, wondering who would be the first to ask him how he was. Nobody seemed to be looking at him. In fact they seemed to be avoiding looking in his direction, although one or two were looking at the five little crutches with a perplexed look on their faces. Leonard looked at the crutches again. He could see no reason why anyone would be looking at them. They were behaving themselves and not talking.

He shrugged his shoulders and perused the menu. He always took at least five or ten minutes to read the menu very carefully, reading every single item individually at least twice. The waiter came up to take his order.

"Yes sir?"

"A cup of the cheapest possible tea with milk and two sugars, please" said Leonard.

"Oh, and a packet of Golden Crunch," he added hastily.

The waiter didn't bother to write anything down. It was a mystery to the tea shop staff why Leonard even bothered to look at the menu as he always ordered the same thing. It was also a mystery as to how he could demolish a whole packet of biscuits in one sitting with only one cup of tea. Packets of Golden Crunch were not on the menu, but the shop ordered them by the caseload specifically for Leonard's visits.

Leonard opened his mouth about to answer the expected question on the state of his leg. But the waiter turned away without asking anything.

What on earth is wrong? wondered Leonard.

I have gone to all the trouble and effort of bringing five noisy little crutches into town to gain extra sympathy, yet no-one is asking me about my leg.

Just as well I have my magazine.

Then he realised he did not have his magazine at all. He had been so annoyed with the little crutches and was so busy lecturing them that he had forgotten to go and buy a magazine first.

He wondered if the tea shop had the latest issues of Air Rifle Monthly or Essential Gadgets Just For Men. Or even the Geocacher's Anorak. Could he be bothered to stagger over to have a look? He decided against it. His chances of disentangling one of the crutches without all the others falling over were pretty low.

He waited miserably for his tea and the packet of Golden Crunch. When they arrived, he got half-way down the packet of biscuits and then decided he had eaten enough. He called the waiter.

"Can you put the rest of these biscuits in a doggy bag?"

The waiter blinked. More than once. Leonard never left a single biscuit, let alone half a packet.

Leonard sighed.

"Can you put the rest of these biscuits in a doggy bag or not?" he said, with some exasperation, wondering what was so difficult about that.

Not that he was going to feed them to Tata as they would not be good for her, but he would eat them later.

"Sorry sir, yes of course," and the waiter whisked up the uneaten Golden Crunch. There was a long discussion in the kitchen. Should they just put the biscuits in a plastic bag, or would Leonard be expecting them in a silver foil tray like proper take-away food?

In the end they decided to err on the side of caution. The staff carefully took all the remaining biscuits out of the pack and layered them neatly in a silver tray. Then they put the tray in not one, but two plastic bags. Even Leonard could not complain about that.

The waiter took out the doggy bag. He put it on Leonard's table hesitantly.

"Thank you," said Leonard, looking inside and wondering why on earth they had put a half eaten pack of biscuits in a silver tray and not one, but two plastic bags. He paid the bill and left, to start the long trudge back home. The little crutches were all quiet as he stashed three on his back like Samurai swords, and hobbled off with the other two for support.

He arrived home tired and dispirited. When he got in, he realised he had still forgotten to go and buy a magazine. In despair, he threw the little crutches into the cupboard and went to throw himself on the sofa.

Whereupon Tata bounded into him, knocked him over and reminded him that he had promised to take her out.