Skip to main content

I Spy

[I guess I'd better apologise to all Russians / people who aren't spies - nobody loves putting on your accent and fooling 'the locals' more than I do...]

Lunch today was at a small Italian - after a request for moules - yes you'd be in the same boat as I if you thought we should actually be going to a French restaurant, but I'm rambling. Off we went and for a while were the only guests. Not because it's a bad restaurant, although my first impression, garnered from a disapproving glance from the waitress as the two of us jammed a wheelchair solidly in the door, but rather - I think - a sign of the economic times (and maybe not many people many people lunch indoors on a 15 degree C and sunny Tuesday?)

As the first customers "through"  the door we had our pick of the tables - we chose a window one - to avail ourselves with both the amusement of people watching when the conversation went a  little dry and to pretend to take companionship in the street walkers and populate our surroundings.

After we'd ordered and much to our delight, a couple walked in with the most British of accents they asked for a table for four and it was to be  someones birthday. The eager (and English speaking - turns out the reason the other waitress was giving me the beady-eye was that she doesn't understand English) waiter pounced on the situation "would the signorita like a cake?" The table settled on a glass of Prosecco and a dodgy birthday song. The couple then sparked up a conversation in what I first thought was Italian (and initially found it a little rude that the poorly-fluent-in-English waitress had had to scuttle backwards and forwards for the fluent waiter to interpret.

However it turned out that they weren't speaking Italian, but an Eastern-block language, possibly Russian. A language they continued to speak when the Miniature Guitar Playing Member (MGPM) of the group arrived. She was followed by the birthday girl and a rather scruffy friend. They all continued to natter away until the MGPM began to caress the strings of her miniature guitar and in an extraordinarily high voice sing a song - what I assume was 'happy birthday' in "Russian".

I got a good listen to this song - the waiter had turned the background music off (never good to have two conflicting high voices) and with only  nine people in the room, including staff our audio capabilities weren't exactly pushed.

With a slight lack of conversation at my table, but a definite vibe from theirs my imagination began to wander and snippets of the cold war escapades I've watched over the years came to life...

None of the group looked particularly "Russian", and in fact when they spoke in English you'd be hard-pressed to know they weren't British. The restaurant was oddly unbusy - maybe it was known as a good quiet spot to meet and enjoy some cannelloni and gelati with your comrades before heading back to have high tea and watch East Enders.

On further thought I wondered if perhaps only some of them were spies. The scruffy one - although she didn't make much of an impression and would therefore "blend" easily - wasn't quite n the same level s the others (no Anna). If I had to choose three (I'm letting the birthday girl off the hook here) I'd definitely say MGPM (especially after she nonchalantly rubbed her nose at me as we left the building in a distinctly pig-like pose - was she still hungry? I'd seen her eat at least two courses and she was rather tiny. Or maybe she was just stimulating her cop-radar?) The other two I choose are the couple who arrived first with their one-derfully British accents ont zen vit zee perfekt Russian.

My illogical and irrational manifestations were confirmed when the female of the pair left early, checking out with her coat and British accent - the use of which had a remarkable effect on her facial features. All of a sudden she looked like a different person - off to collect Johnny from school and prepare dinner for her MI-working-husband. Ensuring his martini is "prepared" just as he walks through the door. She exchanging beverage for briefcase...

What we don't know is that the male of the couple is her handler (initially I thought Russian husband, but he was also very close to MGPM, so I scrapped that idea.) Actually he handles both of them - and I'll let your imagination run with that.

So we'd finished our lunch and were walking back I'd not spoken a word of my suspicions, but when a rather plain but burly Russian (she was on the phone - the kind with an earpiece) woman followed us from a safe distance I wondered if the spies had put some kind of mind reading substance in our cuppaccino's? Without panicking I held back at an intersection, both waiting for there to be no traffic around and kindly allowing my shadow to continue ahead on her own path... Needless to say she did, along with the infantesque-like small child - I'd failed to notice - clinging to her hand. I guess I have to give it to her - great decoy!




Lucky

PS. No Russian spies were hurt during this afternoon - illegibly

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

We love you Chewy

Earlier this week we had to make the hardest decision anyone with a pet will ever have to make. You have to be totally selfless, even though you’re fully aware of the devastating consequences. I’m typing this with tears streaming down my checks and my nose running. Over the last few weeks Chewy had slowed down, he wasn’t his beansy self, but we knew this might happen and just took everything slower. On Tuesday we went for our walks, he ate all his food and got as many treats as he could. On Tuesday night, he climbed into our bed. His breathing was heavy, the lymph glands in neck had hugely swollen and he was struggling to breathe. He was disorientated and wouldn’t eat or drink. He kept wanting to go outside, but wasn’t able to stand. I slept next to him on the floor, in the other bedroom and came downstairs when wanted to. Eventually at about 5am we called the vet. She confirmed our worst fears. We booked an appointment for 7:45 that morning, we had a little time to say g

Marking milestones

When Bug was born, well a month or so after, I bought some cards to mark her milestones. Who knew that I should have bought them when I was preggo? So we missed a few photos… But now I find myself attempting to dressing her up for her milestones, only for her to accessorise them with accoutrements such as vomit! Then I jump around, cajoling her into smiling, while hopefully the camera is in focus and I actually press the snap button.  Those photos are all well and good. But I want some real-life photos and babies aren’t renown for their on-cue performances! So how do you actually get that photo of her first tooth?!?  That’s one of the current milestones we’re trying to mark. And she’s not particularly given to opening her mouth wide, unless it’s to cry loudly! I may not be parent of the year, but I’m not about to start taking photos of her mouth while she cries! So, it’ll just have to wait until she smiles for a prolonged period, while I conveniently have the camera to hand! Case in po

One good thing about social distancing…

Is that nobody comes too close and I can get away with only half brushing my teeth (no toothpaste, had Bug in my arms and wouldn’t have been able to rinse). And not wearing deodorant (again, the baby!) Also, still wearing some of my pyjamas, semi-disguised  as day clothes… But nobody can really tell cause they can’t get too close! Win! On top of that we had a very successful walk. The dog mostly listened and was easily distracted by treats. Bug slept the whole time and was seemingly nose-blind. And my back pocket doubled up as my coffee cup holder! Hands-free, here we come!  Oh, and because we were out walking for so long - two hours, until it was time for the next feed - the dog is exhausted! He hasn’t been this tired since his play date with best friend Amber! Lucky x