Sausages

It’s a simple word that can be read without trouble or effort but in a few people, myself included. even seeing the word can produce a powerful emotional reaction.  We went for a lovely walk along the river. Following my recent head banging adventure I am not able to travel as far as I like so after a period we set off towards home again.

My partner mentioned the new Lebanese restaurant which has opened up in our local area and sure enough, as if dragged by magnets, we found ourselves outside its door looking at the menu: it all looked pretty good to me.

It often seems to be the case, in some modern restaurants, that the tables are placed very close together: no doubt in order to increase the possible number of covers. The downside of this is that privacy is limited and you can easily hear what the next table is discussing and notice what they are eating.

We began our meal in isolation and were soon munching happily on various little titbits: nothing could be better. There then began a long wait for our main course, ( about forty minutes), during which the table beside ours was occupied by two middle-aged ladies who started chatting about something to which I paid no attention.

Time drifted on and their starters arrived. humus, some yogurty thing, little plates of this and that and nearest to me, a small plate with about ten miniature sausages. My eye swiveled towards them. “Sausages” I said to my partner. “Yes, I know” she said. Her manner seemed to stiffen slightly and she bought the conversation back to the merits of various dry cleaning shops in the area. A good try but not a hope in hell I’m afraid. “Sausages” I said again, “I wonder what they’re like. ? Perhaps I’ll ask them”. “No ” said my partner, “Leave them alone”. You can’t fault her motives or her manners but sitting so near that small plateful of little darlings I felt all sense of decorum and restraint leave me.

Sure enough, As my knowing partner winced in anticipation, I leaned over and said, as you do, “Excuse me, I was just wondering what those sausages are like”. For reasons undisclosed the lady did not seem to be too pleased to be interrupted but one look at my face revealed that I was prompted by a sincere desire to learn. “They’re a bit spicy and hot” she said. “Not perfect then” I replied. “No” she said. In her place I would have offered me one so I could come to my own conclusions but sadly this didn’t occur to her. That plate of ten was now a mere three, then one then a small pang of grief overcame me as our area became a sausage free zone.

Its a weakness I know: I have a few and you can only admire my partner for putting up with them but how do we resist an ovewhelming temptation.