I had a weird dream last night. I walked into a cafe somewhere in the West Country. It was a typical country cafe, all chintzy decor and cheap pine furniture. On the floor was a ten pound note, which I picked up and handed to one of the waitresses, a full figured woman of a certain age with permed blonde hair, and wearing lots of colourful beads. As we talked about it, we were surrounded by the other staff, who were excessively effusive in their praise of my honesty. In contrast to the first waitress, the others, and there were lots, were all young and thin, although each was marked with a prominent face blemish; a mole on the chin here, a birthmark there and all, without exception, wore their hair long and a sort of uniformly mousey brown in colour. They dressed differently to the first waitress too, adopting drab, pale green, paisley patterned house coats, almost like habits.
As a reward for my honesty, they offered me a free meal. Not wishing to take too great an advantage of this kind offer, I ordered a simple repast of chips, egg and sausage. After some debate about how I liked my eggs, I was shown to a "special" table, which was garlanded in flowers and came with a small arch across the middle, which was similarly adorned. On the other side of the table sat a family of Italian peasants. The man was small and brown, wearing an ill fitting suit. He seemed all nose and hair and spoke with a thick Sicilian accent and it seems he spoke for the entire family because his wife and children sat silently, staring into space.
As the meal, which was a much more sumptuous affair than I ordered, started to arrive, I felt the need to visit the toilet. I was directed out of the cafe and down a winding cliff edge track, which followed some extremely rough terrain. I walked for about quarter of an hour before finding a wooden shack with very modern sanitary equipment fitted. When I returned, I found myself following two young girls, who were pushing bikes and who ignored my requests to let me pass. The track was very narrow and I was loathe to push past for fear of toppling one over the edge to her certain death. We were impeded by other cyclists, who had parked their bicycles at odd angles on the path. All of them resisted movement, so we had to clamber over them to make progress. It was getting dark by now and my patience was being pushed to the limit by the two obtuse girls, who seemed to deliberately ignore my urgency.
Eventually, I managed to get past and ran the remaining way to the cafe, only to find my meal had been eaten. The Italian was commenting pointedly about the quality of the food at the establishment and wiping his mouth demonstratively. My complaints to the green clad waitresses fell on deaf ears as they cleared the table.
"It##Q##s been eaten", one said. "Would you like a sweet?"
Then I woke. Pick the bones out of that.