It was just as well that Sunday’s outing passed off peacefully because on Saturday we had an absolutely hideous trip to a tea shop. We all went out and bought the Princess a new anorak. We bought a ski jacket on the basis that it would be warm and maybe we might all go skiing next year (oh stop sniggering). It is pink. After one afternoon’s wear, it was filthy. An excellent investment, clearly.
After the success of the anorak, we decided to go for tea and a bun. A dreadful mistake, we went to this place on Rue du Bailli where the food and decor are lovely and the staff are vile. And really, that’s ok, if it’s just two adults, but two adults and three small children? It’s a disaster. Mr. Waffle (with Michael strapped to him on the sling) and the Princess
ascended the steep stairs (which I had forgotten) to the tea
room. I tried and failed to get Daniel up the steps in the
buggy. The woman from behind the counter gave a deep sigh and marched around, I assusmed to help me, but no to bang shut the door I had left ajar. I concede that it was freezing, but I was distracted. Another staff member came and told me that the buggy was in the way. I tried despairingly to get up the steps again, but they were just too steep. Mr. Waffle came down to help me (Michael still in sling) leaving the Princess precariously sitting on a chair minding a table. The staff snorted as we, relatively briefly, blocked the staircase. We all sat down. The boys were as good as gold, as was the Princess. The staff continued nasty, they disliked our paraphenalia. It’s hard to blame them, I suppose, but they were so rude and unpleasant, that I was more than willing to try. I ordered a milk shake and asked for a small glass so that I could pour some of it in there for the Princess. “We have no small glasses”. “Well, maybe a mug.” More snorting. The waitress decided that she would ignore that particular bizarre request. Lovely. I think that you will get the flavour of the unpleasant spirit that animates the establishment when I
tell you that on their blackboard, they had emblazoned in large letters “No second spoons with ice cream/deserts”. It was all a bit grim but our little Princess sat smiling, eating her ice cream and saying to her frazzled parents “We’re having a lovely time, aren’t we?”
Good Lord, how mean about the spoons! Little princess made me smile with her innocent comment about the lovely time, bless her heart, she obviously enjoyed it and will remember it with a smile and a warm feeling :o) 
maybe you’d have to ask for a second fork? Or perhaps romantic couples could just eat the ice cream off each other. There are always ways around these rules.
I bet The Princess was taking notes for future reference – and revenge.
And Mrs Affable – gah. Still, at least it wasn’t a drumkit, ay?
Retaliate. Penny whistle for Mrs Affables child 🙂
Jesus, that’s so Belgian
NS, I know. Diva, you’re a big softy. UC, this relationship is doing all kinds of odd things to you. Pog, I certainly hope so. Cha0ic, she’s expecting twins in May, I’m holding my fire for when she’s at her weakest. DLD, to be fair, this has not been my experience elsewhere.
If she’s anything like I was at her age, little memories like that will still make her smile when she’s a big ol’ hard backed woman of 36 ;o) And yes, I know, I AM a big old softy! LOL!
It’s the law, you must get second spoons. Staff like that must be made to a summer at Camp America, oh yes.
