He was unmistakable
really. He was sitting in one of those red leather easy chairs, slumped over a
little table. We'd gone into Cadwalader's for a cup of tea after a long walk
along the seafront and there he was. The cafe was full to bursting even though
the seafront had been quite deserted. "That's where they've all got to
then" I said to my husband. "No wonder there was no-one on the beach
- they're all in here..."
The cafe staff were
rushed off their feet. We sat down hurriedly at the last free table, squashed
into a corner next to the shelf where people were helping themselves to plastic
spoons and little packets of sugar. Young families were seated at the tables,
whilst their small children fussed and fidgeted or ran about, getting under the
waitresses' feet. The old gentleman sat in the corner by himself, next to a
table of four, all working their way through mugs of hot chocolate, topped with
frothy cream, and slices of sickly looking cheesecake. The old man shut his
eyes and leaned back in his chair.
He didn't look very
well really. He was neat enough, white hair cut evenly round his bald patch,
but a bit untidy round the ears, his greyish-white beard neatly trimmed, but
definitely looking a bit peaky. I wondered if he was recovering from some kind
of cancer treatment or something. He looked whacked. In front of him on the
table was a half consumed glass of orange juice... my thoughts wandered to the
possibility of a de-tox.
Then I rumbled him! A
de-tox! Yes, that was it - too many glasses of mulled wine in this festive
season. December would be a busy month for him, getting the last of the
preparations done. In fact, he'd probably been flat out for months. It was only
November 30th today and he was probably just taking a breather before the final
push. A little holiday by the seaside... no wonder he had his eyes shut. He was
trying to chill out for a bit. No doubt he was trying to escape from all the
children that were now rampaging up and down the aisles, waiting for their
parents to finish their coffee and cake and come and do something more
interesting.
He was wearing grey
too - incognito, I guessed - and a change from all that brash red stuff. A nice
grey, ribbed sweater helped him to pass unnoticed. As we finished our tea I saw
the waiter bend over him and say something, before hurrying off. In a moment or
two he was back with a glass of water. Poor man, I expect he wanted to take some
tablets for his headache. We got up to go and on the way out I noticed a little
pile of beautifully wrapped gifts, in shiny gold and silver paper, stacked up
under the Christmas tree near the door. I hadn't noticed that on the way in.
Ah! he'd been getting a bit ahead with his deliveries. Good idea! Christmas
gets earlier and earlier these days.
