04:50 just fed and changed baby. Waiting for him to fall back to sleep to the sound of the plinky plonky machine (highly recommended).
In a couple of hours we are going for a day out to the London aquarium. We are taking the train from Canterbury. We are going into central London for the day on the train with a three year old and a six month old baby. We are either going to have a great time or one of the most stressful days out of our lives.
Well, nothing surely could be more stressful than Saturday afternoon when we decided to take the kids to Whitstable for a walk and hot chocolate in a cafe. There are just way too many people in Whitstable. Too many people who look like they have arrived in Whitstable via a port key from a shop in Shoreditch specialising in vintage flat caps and red chinos.
After a fairly blustery beach walk we wondered into town and got stressed out with each other trying to find a cafe we could fit in. We found nothing and went back to the car.
It’s stupid really because I actually used to work in a little restaurant in Whitstable with an open kitchen (like a chef aquarium to create atmosphere(?) and interest(?) for the customer) and a used to watch families struggling in the tiny restaurant with five cms between tables and no baby changing facilities and just think why? Why are you doing this to yourselves? Yet they were determined, with their £1000+ strollers and recently purchased £50+ baby grows from the Noa Noa shop.
Waitress- “Table 5 would like to order a bowl of the celeriac puree for their baby. Can you do that?”
I look at my prepared supply of celeriac puree which will only do another four portions as an accompaniment to the venison main on the menu.
“Yeeees I can do it but just let them know that it has truffle oil and salt in it.”
Other chef picks up check from different waitress.
“CHECK ON!!! Five venison special, one full English, no black pudding extra egg with no yolk and slightly burnt toast and an eggs benedict.”
What is it about breakfast that these arseholes feel they need to be so particular about it? Who goes to lunch at 2:30 in the afternoon where people are eating venison and orders a breakfast? Why are people so bloody into going out for breakfast anyway? Previous waitress returns.
“Ok so they’ll have the puree for their baby, they say he’s fine with the truffle oil but could you take the salt out of it? The dad would also like some celeriac puree on the side of his eggs royale. Oh and can you do the mum an asparagus omelette with no egg yolks?”
“Is that on the menu?”
“Yeah, yeah I know but can you just do it, they’re so nice!”
“They sound lovely, I’ll just remove the yolks from her eggs at the same time as I remove the salt from this puree and my eyeballs from my face.”
Anyway, enough reminiscing about cheffing in Whitstable I need to sleep before everyone in this house wakes up and starts being all particular about their breakfasts.