Making the holiday last longer

It’s not that I’ve been ignoring my blogging duties, but rather, it’s a concerted effort on my part to make the holiday last longer. You see if I carried on blogging while holidaying, I would now be depressed and sad and ready to throw myself off the nearest curb. But with my memory still intact, and the notes in my trusty red A6 notebook (thanks Ei Leen Voon) I can pick up where I left off and relive my holiday.

When last I updated you I was in London, heading for a wine bar that proposes to be the oldest in the English capital. A wine bar that Rudyard Kipling used to live above. A wine bar that is pretty much in a drain. And because it’s a wine bar, it sells wine…and that’s all.

Things started to go awry when dared to ask (or ask my friend to ask) if they had Pimms. In my defence, at this stage, I didn’t know if was a wine bar that Rudyard Kipling used to live above, I thought it was a bar in a drain, and assumed because it was a bar, I might be able to get all manner of alcoholic beverages. I was very wrong and was let know that in no uncertain terms.

With a bottle of rosé (because it’s more economical to drink by the bottle than by the glass) we chose to sit outside and enjoy the sun. It appears we may have inadvertently sat at a table that is usually frequented by some older ‘gentlemen’ known to the staff of said wine bar in a drain in London that Rudyard Kipling used to live above. Because these said ‘gentlemen’ decided to try to stare us down and make us feel particularly uncomfortable in an effort to have us leave said table. Their passive aggressive behaviour appeared to be fully endorsed by the staff as well, who would routinely look over at us and appear shocked that we were sitting at this magical table at a wine bar drinking … wine. How dare we be so presumptuous!

What the old cronies had counted on, was us caving under their pressure and leaving them to it. However, both my friend (Tammy Bagrie) and I are not so easily intimidated. While they were inching closer to the table, we ordered more drinks. When we finished them, we sat there, like protestors chained to buildings to make a point. And when we were ready to leave, we found a couple looking for a seat and invited them to join us, so the old cronies would have to wait a while longer.

This is what happens when you choose to mess with strong-willed Kiwi’s.

Imagine what could happen if we used our talents for good.

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