So I handed in my printer cartridge to the ink man to refill, a process which apparently takes 15 minutes. I didn't fancy hanging around for that time so I nipped out for some lunch. I went into a respectable looking cafe down the road called The Bay Tree and sat down looking forward to lunch.

At this point a man, whom I believed to be Armenian or possibly Azeri, siddled up to the table with a menu, dressed in what seemed to be a mechanics overalls with patches on it like "Shell" and "Castrol GTX". He had the menu grasped in both hands and he slowly lowered in on to the table said "Sir, the menu" AND GAVE ME THE MOST SINISTER NARROW EYED GLARE EVER.

Despite being slightly alarmed it was going to take more than a disquietingly dusky foreigner to intimidate me out of my 'beef burger with green salad' and I gave him my order.

Castrol GTX Man scuttled off to the kitchen like Max Schreck in Nosteratu but my recovering nerves were quickly shattered once more by a kerfuffle in the kitchen. Three men, including Castrol GTX man, were having an argument in there, seemingly in their own tongue since the only word I recognised was "beef burger".

At this point a different man appeared, dressed in a short sleeved shirt which was unable to contain the sort of body hair you might expect on an Artic mammal but certainly not a cafe owner. He approached my table, almost apologetically, and asked "Beefburger is meal or sandwich?"

I have to say the question took me aback and left me dumbfounded and grasping for an answer. I hadn't expected on entering a cafe to be asked if a beefburger is a meal or a sandwich. I said "meal" not sure myself and off he went back into the kitchen shouting at the others "SEE! YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT THE FUCK YOUR DOING!!!"

I waited about 10 minutes for my meal all the while trying to figure out if a beef burger is a meal or sandwich. When it appeared it was brought in by Castrol GTX man who lowered the plate on to my table AND GAVE ME THE MOST SINSTER NARROW EYED GLARE EVER - beating his previous most sinister narrow eyed glare ever of ten minutes ago.

The beef burger looked reasonable and there was some salad that I recognised as salad but I was concerned by the presence of a veritable mountain of fiberious 'beans' of unknown origin. They kinda looked like minature pebbles. I tasted one, it was ghastly, and spent most of my lunch break steathly hiding the beans in the equally mysterious mound of white sauce with yellow streaks through it. By the end my plate was clean except for a one and a half foot tall skyscraper of white sauce.

After having been charged a small fortune for my dining experience and making a camp dash for the door before GTX Man saw the white sauce tower on my plate, I emerged blinking into the bright winter sunshine rueing the fact that yet an other Glaswegian eatery was joining that long long list of the Konstanti-out-of-bounds.

Europe is complex and sinister and the Bible.

that made me laugh. Did the so-called white 'sauce' have a distinct aroma that induced a sense of deja-vu, by any chance? 'Cause i know several people in the so-called 'food' industry who have -- though i don't condone it -- 'done that'.

hee hee. i like your stories.

You are Obner's story telling ace.

"Glaswegian" always makes me think "refined squeegee man"

Like a butler who does windows.

[img][650:636]http://www.liquid-roof.com/images/squeegee.jpg[/img]

<-- feels slighted by this comment

I am so very glad you have never taken me to those type of eating establishments, Darrin. Yeesh!

I can't believe you ate food prepared by people that angry.

I love the way you tell stories.

Oh man, that was a great story. Thanks.

oh for sure, i would have been long gone when the azeri walked into the kitchen...

Is it that hard to find good food there? Are the stories of "boiled everything" true?

haha, good story, indeed