Feed Me. I Don’t Care What
The entire trip back to our “Base Camp” in Belturbet was consumed with trying to decide what to eat for dinner. We were exhausted, so preparing a meal for ourselves was quickly ruled out. We needed someone else to do the work and set the food in front of us.
There were several “Take-Away” shops, offering Pizza, Kebabs, Fish and Chips, Indian Curries, and Chinese Food. A couple of the shops offered ALL of these items. At this point in the day I didn’t care anymore. I just wanted non-toxic organic matter, with ketchup.
The next problem was Parking. There wasn’t any. The fact that there were six pubs on the block didn’t help. It was eventually decided that one person would go into the Take-Away and, hopefully, come out with food. We didn’t care what.
After a few spins around the block, observing all traffic laws and “one-way” street signs, we spotted Ellen standing on the sidewalk. Once more around the block. On the second go-round we waved at her. She waved back. On the next circumnavigation we found a spot to pull over and out of the flow of traffic. We retrieved Ellen and her two bags of…of…of what?
“Fish and Chips for everybody!”
I was jiggy with that as long as the fish was cooked.
“I’m sorry it took so long, but nobody in the shop spoke any English.”
Side Note: “How could you run a retail business in an English speaking country and have no one who could speak or understand English dealing with the customers?”
And now back to our regular broadcast.
“After a couple of minutes of mime and pointing I was able to order Fish and Chips for four.”
“I think that two orders might have been enough.”
When we got home and ripped open the bags we learned that she may have been correct, especially on the Chips side. We had enough potatoes to substitute for the loaves at the Sermon on the Mount miracle.
The fish, however, was only one piece per customer, but that piece was roughly the size of your basic laptop computer. Yup. Two orders would have been enough. Maybe only one.
The leftover deluge of Chips made an encore appearance at breakfast this morning. I waived my rights.
Don’t misunderstand me – the Fish and Chips were wonderful – all 12 tons of them, Ellen said that the guy taking her order was confused, surprised, and also a bit concerned about the size of her purchase.
After last night’s feast we should also pile into the car and drive to the “Hill of Tara” (home of ancient Irish kings). We should take a carrot, get out of the car and scream, “As God is my witness, I’ll never be hungry again.”