Wine-O

So I went to lunch to read my book, and a man asked if he could take my spare chair. He sat down opposite me and then spilt white wine all over me. He didn’t apologise either, took my only napkin and used it to ineffectually mop up the stuff on the table, just pushing it further toward the table-edge and my soaked lap saying things like ‘oh did I do that?’.

I didn’t even have anything to stem the flow on my poor soaked trousers. I rushed to the cash registers, as this particular cafe - like all London cafes - don’t keep napkins around handy, but safe-guard them at registers and then issue them singly to customers as if they were gold leaf. So I rushed over, reached around said register and grabbed a wad and stormed out.

I’m so annoyed. Not only am I in sticky-trousers-all-day–hell but I stink like a booze bitch. I hate Londoners. HATE YOU ALLLLLL!