Sad Cafe

I am updating my blog from an internet cafe in town. Its a 'cafe' in the loosest sense of the word, the only warm beverages they serve are dispensed from a large noisy machine behind the 'cashier' and the choice ranges from lukewarm powdered tea to murky brown, scalding hot chocolate. All for the princely sum of £1.50! I requested a little hot water for my camomile teabag to be met by a quizzical stare from the 'cashier', he almost put his mobile telephone down when I asked him but then decided to continue his loud conversation. Then another one of his three mobiles rang so I decided against persisting with my request. How I wish I was bi-lingual so I could understand his loud, animated conversations which seem to involve people on two mobiles and someone on web chat. Whatever he is talking about must be important as he stops mid sentence and bangs the table really hard. Not that its putting the Spanish lady to my left off, she is chatting away merrily (and loudly) to a friend online via a headset microphone. I am rather hungry but the cafe only offers chocolate bars and bags of crisps. I might pop out for food but I may lose my computer space, this place is packed so shall hang on til the next wave of hunger pangs (not sure how the 'cashier' does any business he has the customer service skills of a wet flannel).
Ray has eaten me out of house and home, I always thought heavy drinkers forgo food for alcohol but not Ray. Whatever he puts away in alcohol he matches with food. This evening I found yesterday's food shopping gone except for a four pack of pears and some cheap mint imperials I bought for the team (all those spicy chickpea burgers and mung bean bakes are making the office a little whiffy, especially in warmer weather). Not only had he worked his way through a week's shop, or swapped it for alcohol, I caught him rifling through my sock drawer. When I pulled him up on it he said he had lost the TV remote. I hate confrontation but he has to leave.