Valentine Vignettes

We went out last night mainly just because, and hoping that we, who eat out probably twice a week, were not going to be inconvenienced by amateur Valentine’s opportunists. All was well; we got a table at our first choice venue, and even though an eyebrow was raised when they realised we hadn’t booked, a pointed glance around the 50% empty venue won the day. A wet, chilly, February Sunday was never going to work for many, though no doubt Saturday was busy.

Having sorted the wine, and ordered the food (calamari with a chili dip then spaghetti with chicken, prawns, chili for me; king prawns in a chili and tomato sauce then spaghetti bolognese for the boy) we settled, to discuss plans and for me to do a little people watching.

This was mainly triggered by the arrival of a young lad, who looked around 12 but must have been older. Full on goth/emo black, arse exposing jeans, bouffant and spiked hair (how do they do that?). He sat by himself at table in the window, and I intermittently worried about him in a vague way for 1-15 minutes as he fiddled with the menu, and looked a bit uncomfortable. Then he looked up and out and smiled, and then a beautiful goth/emo girl came in - all in black, mini skirt, stunning make up in that pale vampiresque kind of way, more bouffant spiked hair - with an enormous card for him. They looked very happy then, which maybe misses the goth/emo point, but is actually lovely to see.

The couple next to us looked very smart, very cool. Cutting edge hair, this season’s clothes (though what would I know -  they looked new though). He was also quite big and tough looking. They were aware of how they looked, a bit of posing going on. Until she handed him his Valentine’s present, whereupon they gave each other their full attention as he unwrapped it, and he was reduced to unselfconscious sentimental gooeyness and ‘awww’ noises by a small teddy in a mug. Teddy then was sat on the table between them for the remainder of the meal.

The people out with small children were dispersing at this point so things were quietening down a bit. I managed to curb channelling my Mother on the subject of small children, restuarants and school nights, because 1. I really don’t want to turn into her, I’m leaving that to my brother (similar theatrical and event driven tendencies) and 2. I remembered it was half term.

The next party to arrive was interesting. Two chaps, probably into forties, two children, boy 10, girl 12 or thereabouts. The lead chap was the father, and quietly arranged  menus, ordered drinks, sorted out the food, in a nicely negotiated and discussed manner – put the kids at ease, encouraged them to try stuff, but with a backout plan, and ensured everyone was happy with the final choices. Nicely done and not often seen. We can’t organise stuff like that at work and we’re supposed to be good at it.

The next time I was aware  of them was when I heard the word Thatcherism – always faintly alarming and on this occasion strangely out of context. It turned out the two chaps were explaining at a fairly minute level of detail what Margaret Thatcher’s government had done and why it was bad for society. The miners were discussed, as well as several other contemporary events, and the thinking behind them. It was also taken to the level of what effect it all had on an individual’s wealth, prospects and choices, and the kids were asked some pertinent questions and asked some back. From my somewhat elderly and ropey politics knowledge (undergraduate, 12 years ago) it all sounded fairly kosher, if from a resoundingly left wing standpoint. Quietly and thoughtfully discussed as well (obviously as I got the gist…).

It was all quite bizarre, but actually quite life affirming; we ended up having an extra glass of rather good red and feeling really quite optimistic…

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