Big Pants

I’m sure the bloke with the ponytail that works in the Lawns Café in Hove thinks I’m a bit soft in the head. He stands there watching me each morning battling against the 40mph winds blowing in my face, the freezing sea mist and that fine rain that goes right through you, as I make my way along the wide promenade that runs between Hove Lawns and the beach towards his café which is sensibly positioned with an open counter facing east, butted up against the multicoloured beach huts and protected from the prevailing winds and precipitation.

 

He must wonder why I bother, particularly as I have to pass at least two other cafes to get to him. Well there a few reasons actually. Firstly, they do serve really nice coffee, in a mug, which is good. Secondly they also stock Lizzie’s Millionaire Slice bars, of which I am particularly fond, but the main reason is that his esteemed establishment is, according to the app on my phone, almost exactly 5000 steps from my home.

 

So, my making my way each morning to the Lawns Café and back I am guaranteed to get my full quota of 10000 steps a day which I set myself as a target as part of my recuperation from my recent operation. But despite the fact I have made the journey almost every day for the last two weeks, we still go through the same routine.

 

“Morning, what can I get you?” he asks politely, but with no other recognition.

 

“Morning buddy, how you doing? An Americano coffee please, black, no sugar. And a Millionaire Slice. Rotten day again.”  I try to engage…

 

“Want milk with that?”

 

Now if there is one thing that boils my blood, as I have revealed in these pages previously, is being asked if I want milk in an Americano. This is a coffee that is made with just an espresso, topped up with hot water. No milk. Ever. I don’t care if it’s cow’s, almond, soya or whatever, there is no place for milk in an Americano.

 

“No thanks, just black, no sugar.”

 

But he asks me the same question every sodding day, and nothing else. You might have thought he’d recognise me by now?  The fella with the black Berghaus jacket and tartan scarf that pitches up at about the same time every morning and orders the same black Americano coffee and a biscuit. Maybe it’s a wind up? It’s not as if they are overly busy at the moment. It’s out of season, and the weather lately has been diabolical. There’s never a queue and nobody sat at the tables and chairs behind the windbreak alongside the café. In fact when I arrived one day this week, the only other customer would appear to be the random dog, as shown in the photo below, who obviously hadn’t read the “dogs must be kept on a lead” signs which feature at regular intervals along the promenade.

 

So he prepares the coffee, piping hot, and hands it across the counter, and every day, before I can wrestle it from his grasp, he’ll say:

 

“Did you want milk in that?”

 

“No.”

 

“Sugar?”

 

“No.”

 

And with that he takes my fiver – yes five English ponds for a coffee and a glorified biscuit – and instantly retreats back away from the counter to the comparative warmth by the tea urn and the coffee machine, leaving me to take my pick from the vacant plastic chairs. After a short sit down I’ll return my empty cup, wish him a pleasant day, get nothing in reply, and head off back towards home.

 

I might not enjoy much in the way of witty repartee with old ponytail, but I wonder if he misses me on the odd day I don’t turn up, leaving him with only stray dogs to attend to?

 

Well, Wednesday was just such a day. A parcel that I had been eagerly awaiting finally arrived by courier. It was a new pair of swimming trunks. I may have lost about 4” off my waist in the last few months, but these weren’t smaller, they were Big Pants which are specially designed for people in my current situation, good and baggy with a very high waist. It was over four weeks since the operation, so we thought it was time to get back in the water at the pool at our local David Lloyd, under the watchful and protective eye of the Blonde. I felt quite nervous, self-conscious and anxious to begin with – I didn’t swim for very long and thoroughly checked myself after each length to ensure everything was still intact, but it was a success and another milestone.

 

After getting dried and dressed, in one of those discreet little cubicles that are thoughtfully provided in the changing rooms, I met up again with the Blonde in the corridor and we decided to grab a celebratory drink and a snack in the cafeteria upstairs as this was a big deal for me.

 

The girl at the counter greeted me with a cheery smile, and asked what we would like.

 

“An Americano please.”

 

“Did you want hot or cold milk with that? she asked……