Stories from the 'Spoon

I was on my way into London to work. It was early in the morning, never a good time for me, and I was heading for a day doing crap work I really didn't want to do. I'm remembering it like it was raining, although it probably wasn't. Still, it adds a bit of atmosphere. A free special effect.

I was starving. As is often the case when working at this time in the morning, I'd neglected to have any breakfast. Getting up at the last minute, then scrambling through the door, running to catch my train.
I couldn't decide what to eat. Breakfast has always been a tricky one for me. Although I know there are many other options available, I always see it as being a choice between cereal, which never fills you up, or an English breakfast, being extremely unhealthy.

Cereal was no longer an option, as I'd already left the house. You can't very well walk into a cafe and order a bowl of corn flakes. It's just not the done thing. I didn't, for some reason fancy a sausage or bacon sandwich. I wanted beans. I didn't know why. But I wanted beans. A full English it was then.

I stopped off at Victoria and found a nearby cafe. It didn't look amazing, but as I was running late, this would have to do. I ordered my set breakfast, making sure it included beans, and sat at a table by the window. It was nice to just to stop and watch the rest of the chaotic world running around in my imaginary rain.

I concerned myself with the possible consequences of eating sausages from such a dingy, down-market establishment, then began to observe the other customers.

To my right, an eastern European builder, presumably Polish, with a bit of a rapport with the waitress. He looked healthy enough. Surely I'm safe. Unless he was getting special sausages?

Ahead of me some more builders, chatting away about the football or something. To be honest, I understood more about the Polish building trade.

There were lots of other people in there who I can't remember, like extras in a porn movie. Who's gonna remember them? But there were two people there who I haven't forgotten. Young, trendy looking guys, almost certainly students. One was of Oriental appearance, the other I'm guessing was from Guildford, or Woking. (I can always tell.)
Snippets of conversation came wafting over about their recent travels. Thailand, South America. Places they wanted to go to, Hong Kong, China, Cheltenham...

The waitress approached their table with two plates of breakfast. She put it down, they thanked her, then something very strange happened. The two men fell silent, then I saw their hands placed together, and one of them started murmuring words about God, and Jesus!

How bad was this breakfast to be, for them to feel they had to pray to survive it? Had they been here before? What ever did they think was in those sausages?

Now I was really worried!


My food arrived shortly after. I hurriedly ate my beans then left.