Sesame Seed: Chapter Ten.

by | Aug 23, 2023 | Post 2 | 0 comments

The room was unfamiliar. Dark, cold and forbidding. A tall church-like window provided scant illumination to his first waking seconds. What was familiar, a brace of pain, warm, glaring and inviting; welcomed him to the morning.

Scotland. The full Scottish, An antidote to all things alcohol. That would help him get through the day. Through a haze of stale alcohol and the distant aroma of frying, he managed to make himself presentable. The thought of standing for eighty minutes on a concrete terrace in the shadow of the Eildon Hills was not an attractive one. The three mammaric peaks gave their name to the nearby Roman fort of Trimantium. Tony’s thoughts drifted to the image of a three breasted woman, was she a myth or a creation of Marvel or DC? His head really did hurt. Breakfast!

The two men reconvened in the stately dining room of the G and A. The place was almost empty. Tony recognised the round vowels of a Canadian couple enthusing over the decor. The remaining diner was an eccentric old man whose  attire was every colour of the rainbow. Tony admired the raw taste of his orange chinos, with pink socks.

The young waitress made her rounds of the meagre collection of diners for breakfast and drinks requests. 

“Which part of America are you from?” She asked the couple. Tony closed his eyes at the unfortunate girl’s faux pas. He leaned over to his pal and whispered.

“Oh dear, that’s unfortunate. Do you know if it was the other way around it would be a compliment?” He chuckled under his breath and Alan nodded profusely, smiling.

“I bet she asks the old guy if he’s gay, “ The doctor replied.

“As long as she doesn’t ask that of us,” Tony hissed. They both laughed out loud like a couple of teenagers, attracting the attention of the girl and fellow diners. Self consciously, Tony ordered the Full Scottish with extra black pudding in place of haggis. Alan requested his friends portion of the offal and oat delicacy.

“You shouldn’t be squeamish Tony, especially if you can stomach fried pig’s blood,” Alan commented, rubbing his giant hands together.

“It’s not that mate, there’s something in haggis that turns my stomach. It a herb or spice. I’ll each sheep’s innards with the next man, but mace? You can keep it!” Both men laughed again, raising a smile from the old rainbow man and frowns from the insulted Canadians.


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