Shane: Reading policy documents and getting my head into data.
Emma: So you’re at home all day?
Shane: No. I’m gonna do some of that at the museum’s café - I need to have a look at that place. We might be taking some of the young rowdies up there.
Emma: Mm. Good luck with that.
A quick jaunt around the museum presents me with more ceramic work than even the most ardent enthusiast could process in one visit, a load of industrial landscape photography, a load of other ‘bric-a-brac’ and finally, the café.
Earl grey (£1.05) and a small plate of biscuits (28p) before me, I settle onto a comfortable sofa, in the quietest corner – out of sight, out of mind, papers out, snug behind. I get down to reading. Fifteen minutes pass before the jolting hollering:
Waitress (gritty, mid-50s): (calls out) Where’s me rubber?
Maintenance worker (male, 40s, confused): Y’ wha’?
Shane (male, 30s, an innocent): (thinks) Oh deary deary me, no – I am here, you are not alone!
Waitress: Me rubber! For me fridge!
Maintenance worker: Oh, right. I’ll get y’ it.
Shane: (thinks) For her fridge, of course. What a filthy mind I have.
An inconsequential hollering, I return to my reading.