Three northern breakfasts

I’ve been in Scarborough, working on a story. Stayed in a perfectly nice hotel and this morning came down for my breakfast. I was greeted at the entrance to the dining room by a waitress who addressed me thus: “Good morning sir. Have you had breakfast before?”

I said well, yes, I’m 52, you know. I’ve had loads of them. This response seemed to satisfy her and nothing more was said on the matter. If I’d said no, I’ve never had breakfast in my life, would she have explained to me what breakfast was, do you suppose? Told me about Kellogs and stuff? Very odd. A few months ago I was in South Shields working on a story, and in another perfectly fine hotel. At breakfast this nice Geordie waiter came up with his pen and pad and said: “Good morning sir. Would you like any kind of juice?”

Yes please, I replied, I’d like some  orange juice.

He wrote this down.

And would you like tea or coffee, sir?

Yes, coffee please, filter coffee.

He wrote this down.

And would you like a cooked a breakfast, sir?

Yes please, I said. I’d like scrambled eggs on toast, please.

He wrote this down.

Brown or white toast sir?

Brown please.

He wrote this stuff down too. Then he looked up at me from his pad, narrowed his eyes, and said the following:

“ You may have noticed, sir, that my pen does not work. However, I am optimistic that I will be able to read your order from the indentations I have made on the paper.”

And off he went.

Both of these incidents made me laugh a lot, later. Neither were quite as funny, though, as Alan Bennett’s anecdote about staying in a guest house in Hartlepool and overhearing the following conversation snippet, between a businessman guest and a waitress:

Businessman: “Excuse me, but do you have any fresh grapefruit, as opposed to tinned?”

Waitress: “Why? Are you diabetic?”