Could this post be any more random?

You are going to have to excuse the nonsensical rubbish that you are about to read. Despite the fact that I am a pretty appalling writer at the best of times I’ve decided to outdo myself this time by choosing to write this post whilst listening (and unfortunately singing) to Senegalese music. The music itself is good, at least in my opinion (hence the singing) unfortunately I don’t really know what the words are so I’m just making sounds that are somewhat similar which is probably driving my neighbours crazy but its about time seeing as he’s been doing something similar to me with his dartboard night after night underneath my room - thud, thud, thud….thud, thud thud…. Between those darts and the tomcat that doesn’t get any sex and has to tell the world every night, for hours on end, its probably just as well I don’t live in America otherwise I might have been tempted to use my right to carry arms in a negative manner, instead all I have is my Senegalese music to fall back on.

Anyway the blogging moment, that wasn’t it.

Today, for once in my life, I was feeling flush and decided rather than make my lunch at home or order a take away from the Italian café in town I would instead drive a mile out of town and order food from The Stables. The Stables is a bar/restaurant type place situated on its own along the canal, and is surrounded by countryside. There are restaurants galore in each of the surrounding towns and villages but since this isn’t in town it has for all intensive purposes a monopoly of customers. Cyclists and walkers use it when they are going along the canal, and drivers stop there when they are going into or leaving the town. I used to come here often but I haven’t been since it had a change of management and an upgrade last year.

When I entered the premises the restaurant was heaving with customers and I almost walked straight back out, thinking so much to that idea but then I looked in the bar and noticed there was some space in there, and for some reason its cheaper to eat in the bar. Turned out to be lucky day after all.

Of course there was a catch. There always is. To get to the food, I had to get past the barman who takes your orders. This a man more Bond villain than bon vivant. To walk into that bar is to laugh in the face of fear. The barman welcomed me with all the warmth of a Transylvanian butler in a B-movie. He drops menus on my table with a sneer. He repeatedly ignores my attempts to order. As he walks past, the guy sitting in the table next to me whispers that barman picked up his tattoos in a Russian prison. I think he’s having me on, but I can’t be sure. From that point on, we both called the barman “Igor”, funny enough this didn’t improve the service any.

It’s possible, of course, that this man is in the wrong job by accident, and were the restaurant owner to read this post “Igor” would be fired. I’m not convinced. I think Igor is all part of the plan.

Why would a restaurant deliberately sabotage the dining experience? A restaurant with a good reputation and a brilliant chef acquires some degree of power to name its prices. With that power comes the temptation to try to separate out customers and charge a high price to the expense-account lobbyists and a cheaper price to me and my friends who only come by when we can afford to. A nice idea, but trying to charge different prices for the same product is not easy. Something must be done to keep the lobbyists in the full-priced restaurant, and that something is Igor.

Anyway the food was great, I’d go back again but I might wait until I discover the shift pattern of Igor.

And it really is my lucky day, I might be moving to a new place – RENT FREE – that’s right my own one bedroom apartment won’t cost me a penny, and its in a very beautiful part of Scotland called Perthshire. Tourists spend hundreds of £’s a week to live there – hah suckers!

It will mean a little more traveling to work in the morning but I think I can manage that, seeing as most people do that every day I was just lucky that I could practically fall out of bed in the morning and be at work. The apartment itself isn’t totally free, I do have to do 12 hours work a week for it, but the number of hours I work already I won’t really notice that. Sometimes the world is beautiful. Shut up - let me enjoy the moment.