How about this one?

For breakfast I attempted a second bout of weetbix, with the recommendation of a small amount of milk, and eating it particularly quick. Even with these, I'm not the greatest fan. I ended up topping up with a good old crumpet, with peanut butter crunchy. I still have to say that smooth is better, it doesn't come with that irritating feeling you get when you know something is getting stuck between your teeth as you chew your food. Lunch, sticking with a proven formula, battered fish with hot chips, only this time trying an array of sauces, tomato, tartare, gravy and a "home-made mushroom sauce". Mix any one of these with a small squeese of lemon, and it's almost disasterous! However individually, with the fish and the hot chips, I must say I am once again impressed. (Maybe my standards aren't quite up to scratch... Haha!)  Mix any of the other sauces with the tartare, and you're looking for trouble. Big trouble! It was horrible... However the tomato sauce with the gravy, and the mushroom sauce with the gravy are big sellers for me. After this I wandered for a little, trying to work out what I should do for dinner... I found myself circling around this small pub, just walking along the block, and noticed that one particular man was sitting at the bar, enjoying a rather large, what I assume to be a battered chicken breast with more than ample hot chips to satisfy him the bartender, and possibly three others. So, taking note of where I was, and where I was going I continued to wander until the time came when I was hungry, and I wandered a little bit more just to make sure. Making my way back to the pub I find it is all but emptied, save for the bar tender and one female. I make my way in, unchallenged (unexpected considering it is a bar...) I stand a little back to look at the chalked menu pinned above the bartender. There didn't look to be a great deal. "Spewing chicken, Chicken in-pyjamas, Hot chicken, Steak (with choice of sauce), Fush 'n' chups" Riiiiigghhhhht...... Spewing chicken doesn't exactly sound appetising, I've already had my fill of steak for dinner these past few days, I'd had 'fush 'n' chups' (It took me a little to actually work out what that was...) for lunch, which left the questionable Chicken in-pyjamas, or hot chicken... Being the new and adventurous fool that I am, I had the chicken in pyjamas... It ended up being a sliced, crumbed chicken breast, with diced tomatoes and cheese on top. The first plate they tried to serve me, the chicken wasn't cooked properly... I mean, I cut into it, and I heard it squawking and clucking with displeasure... I had to return it. The bartender was not pleased, with me, or himself, or the actual cook, I don't know. Whilst waiting my replacement chicken the female decided to sit opposite me, I'll talk about that further down. The bartender grunted as he placed the plate down, almost toppling the food all over the table. As for the food itself, it wasn't too bad considering where I ate it, and who had served it. The mix of tomatoes and cheese.. Oh firstly, the tomatoes were quite obviously canned, not fresh. There wasn't that wholesome taste to it, none of that enjoyment you get from eating fresh food. I suppose that's all one can expect from a pub meal, but it still tasted pretty good! Now where was I... Oh yes, the combo of cheese and tomatoes (Another new one for me...) went surprisingly well. Not one for a great deal of cheese, and if I do go for cheese it's normally brie, double cream if I can afford it, but otherwise blue... Off topic... food, dinner, great! Chicken in-pyjamas, alright, could've been a little bit fresher, but at least it was cooked!!!!.. Eventually anyhow...

Now then, where was I in my story... Oh yes, infancy! Great fun! What's your earliest childhood memory? Mine is throwing up all over my fathers face as he lifted me up into the air! What? Like you wouldn't enjoy having that memory as well? Haha! What he failed to acknowledge was that my mother had recently given me a feed, and I was something of a ticklish baby. Every time he picked me up I ended up giggling and kicking about, not because I enjoyed the heights, or the rides (both scared me a great deal), but because he was ticking me! I also remember he dropped me once, because I squirmed too much. I believe that's about the same time he stopped picking me up for fun and games... Shortly after my mother bought me a mini piano. She would prop me up on her knee, and just talk gibberish as she pressed my fingers on a few select keys. After about an hour she would pull out some sheets of paper and point to there, then back to a key, and I would hit the key as hard as I could, just once so I could get to the next key as fast as I could to make the tune sound good! Those games were fun! It's memories like these that take up precious little space which is why I can't remember how to tie my shoelaces, or where we've moved to or from, or (until recently) how to tell the time on my watch...

I did say I was going to talk about that female in the bar, didn't I? Well, you've made it this far, I guess I have to give you what you want.. Haha! She was young-ish, maybe early twenties, short, slender built. Not sure where she came from, possibly Australia? Haha! Such things don't interest me all that much. Anyhow, she sat opposite me, looked me in the eye and said "You look like a trusting fella, not the usual type that come in 'ere..." And from there came a strange version of 20 questions... She asked, and I answered... Then my second meal came, she walked over to the music box, pushed some buttons and music started playing, she went to the bar and ordered herself a drink, she drank it slowly... Slowly enough that I managed to enjoy my meal by the time she had gone through half of her glass. She invited me to sit next to her, I said I'll sit for one drink and ordered a cider. She ordered another telling me I have to drink slowly to let her catch up. After she finished her first drink, I took a sip of mine and she instantly started pouring her heart and soul out. After a little while, the bartender rolled his eyes scoffed and walked away. At that she started crying... Slumped over on the stool, hert hair getting into her drink, not to mention mine... Awkward much? I don't rightly know what to do... Do I give her some dodgey advice, no doubt she's heard many times, no doubt payed for the first few as the advice came from some psych-text book, do I sit here lame, finish my cider and leave her sitting there sobbing... Do I start listing all the different ways she could be worse off, or go with the light hearted approach and remind her of what she does have? I don't know what I'm supposed to do here, if anything... Ok, I can't just sit here and do nothing, her sobbing is getting noticed by passerby, I don't really like the idea of just walking out that doesn't seem right to me. I take a few mouthfulls of my cider and tell myself, I have to do something... I sit aa little closer and pat her on the back. That turns out to be a little awkward for my liking, so I try something different. Stroking her back, rubbing up and down, and then I start to get a little desperate and start whispering, cooing, just trying to calm her... I manage to simmer her down, or rather she runs out of steam, she sits up looks at me, mascara smudged, only made worse by her attempts to dry her tears, and she wondered aloud just what I was doing there, when I could've left her. I told her I wanted to prove her right, that I wasn't one of the regulars, that I was different. She smiled, a broad, toothed grin of gratitude and thanks. After that I took my leave, she waited a short while to chase me and practically beg for a hug... I sighed inwardly to myself, and offered a brisk, warm hug and we parted. She skipped off in the direction that she came from, I turned on my toes and started whistling my way home! Something I didn't think I knew how to do...