Not much anyway. Yes, we do like to read on paper for the most part, but Nic and Millie will let those of use with e-book readers into the coffee shop if they are in a good mood. The problem is that they haven’t been in much of a good mood lately, ever since the incident with the cat.
We have all mentioned old Bill and his bird in our previous book reports from the coffee house in the past. Apparently, some people have taken this as license to bring any old animal in. A couple of times since the beginnings of warm weather, Nic and Millie have had to ask a few people to leave their dogs outside. But the most recent, rather disastrous occurrence was with Millie’s own sister, Leslie, and the cat.
Now, Leslie doesn’t much like cats, so everyone knew she brought the cat in just to wind up her sister because she is such a soft touch with Bill. “Why do I have to put up with that old fart and his bird while I’m trying to have my coffee and toast in the morning before going to work? I don’t know which puts me off more, that old hobo or the crapping bird.” Leslie, all beehive hairdo and cat’s eye glasses on a chain (she was once a hairdresser) and almost 80, works as a home health carer. There are murmurings in the shop that she is the best money saving device the insurance companies have because with her sour attitude the patients would sooner die then put up with her one more day. She and Millie are quite different, fall out often, but are close in their own way. Leslie and her “boyfriend” of almost 90 go dancing every Saturday, if she is not working, down the Princeton Grille with their friends, Irene and Wolf.
Anyway, Linda, Millie’s daughter, was in the shop having a grilled cheese and a coffee for lunch, and showing off her new Kindle to Mrs Bloodworth and Elena. Mrs Bloodworth wouldn’t have anything as greasy as a grilled cheese; she preferred a slice of ham between two pieces of buttered white bread which Nic made for her, because Millie wouldn’t. “Hardly a sandwich at all,” she would sniff. Linda was telling them about how she could download all of 3 volumes of Rebecca West’s The Saga of the Century and start reading them right away. She had tried looking in all the bookshops in town for copies, but none held them, not even in the classic fiction sections. “Well, what about ordering them?” ask Mrs Bloodworth. And then on cue as if scripted: “You young people always have to have everything right away.” Linda and Elena exchanged a look, while Millie, walking by and overhearing, “And you old people always have to have to have everything plain and bland.” Now, Millie usually has time for Mrs Bloodworth, and truth to tell, Mrs Bloodworth is younger than she is, but she had just seen her sister coming in, a cat trailing after her.
Linda, oblivious to the tensions, continued: “The books are about a rather unique family, musical and with odd tastes, down on their luck. Consisting of mostly women of strong personalities, the father a flamboyant intellectual himself has deserted them, chasing after another get-rich-quick scheme. You would like it, Elena, for some of the dry observations:
In those days, when skirts reached the ground, a big woman in badly cut and sad-coloured clothes had a massively depressing effect hard to imagine today.”
She also had some things to say about coffee shop menu:
There were several cakes made in the new way which had been introduced from America, in layers with butter icing between them; and there was something we had never seen before, brandy snaps rolled up in cornets full of whipped cream.
And you know how we were just talking about these food fads. I guess they are not a new thing:
This was an astonishing pronouncement in those days, when dietetic error flourished. Skim was emptied down the drains [as it should be, said Linda], it was the worst condemnation of jam that it contained glucose, and margarine was held to promote rickets.
At this a great big lump of fur landed on top of the Kindle, scattering sandwiches and coffee. All the women jumped up, their chairs clattering against other tables and customers. “LESLIE!! Get that cat out of here!!” was heard above the din. “I didn’t bring it in, it followed me,” Leslie spluttered, choking on laughter. “And anyway, you let that old sot with his bird in.” “And the fact that you’ve probably been feeding it those cat treats you’re hiding in your pocketbook has nothing to do with it,” piped up an irate Bill. “I think that cat has destroyed my Kindle. These things aren’t cheap, you know.” Linda glared at her aunt.
Of course, Millie and Leslie aren’t talking now. And Linda’s ebook screen seems to be stuck on a page which includes the following:
Peace, not like cats at all. “Remember,” cried Mama, “the poor things have to fight rats, they could not do it if they let themselves be gentle. It would be a luxury they cannot have.” Might also apply to coffee shop owners and their sisters….
submitted by Nat Kemp
