Thursday, 27 January 2011

Two tarts is all a couple of blokes ever need...

Tea and buns and male conversaton at Dalooney’s. What could be finer?
Seeing as he’s providing the tea it’s only right I buy ourselves a couple of wee little gourmet tarts, if you don’t mind.

To have with the tea, d’ya see. 
I mean, ye havta.

So into the brightly-lit white shop I pop, my eyes betwinkled by the array of tarty delights glistening in their freshness and glaze.

“I’ll have one of the raspberry and custard, please, and one of the bakewells.”
“Well its 5 euro for 2 and 3 for 6, so you might as well have another.”
“Er, 2 cost 5 euro and 3 cost 6 euro? But I really only want 2 tarts, so why would I spend an extra euro on a tart I never intended to buy?”
”Sure I only mentioned it.”
“You did, and thanks for letting me know. No thanks, but thanks for mentioning it.” says I, trying to smile, because I have worked in shops and know she’s only trying to help.

But never try to convince me to spend more money by telling me I’m saving money.

Once more, today in fact, tea and buns at my good old mate Dalooney’s. 
Ah sure, well, you have to, don’t you, y’know it’s only a courtesy right, so into another totally different to the other one tiny independent bakery I go, and ask for two Danish pastries.

“It’s 4 euro for 4, so you might as well!”
“I’m sorry? You haven’t even told me how much 2 will cost yet.”

She sighs impatiently, with a bravado that I know has already won her the sale. 

“Look, it’s up to you, right, but 2 will costya 3 euro 60 cent, right, and you get 4 Danish for 4 euro, so -” - stepping back outstretching her arms and palms whilst exhaling 

‘ssssh-duuuuuhhsssshhh' finishing with an almost but not quite contemptuous ssssspit like like duh tightwad! It’s only like forty cent guy...

But this afternoon in Ireland forty cent is vital, to me to her to the company she works for, because every one of us 4.5 million citizens of the Irish Rebublic owe 20.000 euro to whichever bizarre consortium of nations and planetary banks supposedly bailed us out.

Strange bailers indeed, who drill holes into the hull of the sinking ship.

Ennyhoodyhoo hoo, Dalooney and I managed to eat 3 of the 4 Danish pastries that I ended up buying.

They were delicious. And just in case you’re wondering, we cut them all in half, so there’ll be none of that ‘who ate 2 and who ate 1?’ slanderous misbehaving type of mischief, thank you very much.

But wouldn't it just be wonderful to walk into a shop and buy what you want?

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