Wordsley, Stourbridge, England: 8 degrees, cold, sunny and slightly overcast.
It is Good Friday, also known as Easter Friday, in Brazil. In Brazil, it is a bank holiday, and everything will be closed.
Traditionally, it is the day when people eat fish instead of meat. This is a Roman Catholic custom and remains very popular in Brazil today. In England, Easter Friday was once a bank holiday; however, it is now at the discretion of authorities and business owners.
Luke, the simple café near my mother’s, is closed and will not reopen until Tuesday. The more popular café on the green will be open. I got up early and did a hard workout in the back living room and outside on the patio.
Some days start beautifully sunny, but soon the weather shifts, and it quickly becomes cold, overcast, and shitty.
The plan was to arrive early at the café on the green, find a small table near the wall with a socket, plug in my laptop, and get some work done. When I arrived, Jim, the owner, was the only one present. I asked if I could use my laptop with his electricity, and he kindly confirmed with his hefty Scottish accent, “not at all”.
The café was empty, so I ordered a pot of tea with my usual limes and focused on my work to get as much done as possible before the village’s bustle begins, since now the café on the green is one of the village’s focal points.
However, it was clear to me that Jim wanted to chat and gossip with me, so I had to give him my attention.
I’ve visited the café a few times before it officially opens, and each time we manage to chat because, mainly, there’s no one else around or any distractions. I also believe we’re free to say whatever we like since nobody’s listening, so we don’t need to worry about being politically correct or offending anyone.
We discussed his new dish that he had created, and he offered it to me to try because I had already helped him with some photos for the café. He also wanted me not to pay for my next order, but I insisted I would pay, as one thing has nothing to do with the other.
In return, he offered me his new dish to try and asked for my opinion and any suggestions. I had done this the day before, and he was very appreciative of my written review, which included a few tips.
We also discussed the ‘woke’ culture and how it is affecting modern societies, the transgender movement, and how I love and appreciate ‘Dave Chappelle’, the GOAT, who talks extensively about these topics in his stand-up shows. When I first discovered Dave Chappelle, I didn’t appreciate his work much, but over time, he’s become an incredible stand-up comedian. More importantly, I think he’s a great storyteller, which sets him apart from others in some ways.
We have a nice connection. Jim is a kind person, clearly committed to his family and his work, and now striving to make his new business a success. I had told him before that during the few times I had eaten at the café, it was apparent to me that he cooked with love.
I learned from Nalva that when food on the table is industrially produced, even if prepared by a competent chef, it doesn’t necessarily mean it’s made with love and has the best taste. However, when it is cooked by someone who genuinely puts love into their cooking, there is a noticeable difference in flavour; it is so much better, and their food has that.
People started entering the café, so we had to stop talking. Then, my beautiful, little, perfect woman came in to start her shift. We only exchanged compliments, with not even a peck on the lips, before the shift. Now I could get down to some serious work.
I got to prepare and publish a blog post, as well as write two journal entries. This was all I managed to do despite constant interruptions from various regulars who have befriended me over the last four or five months. Because I stayed so long, I ordered a sandwich and one or two more coffees than usual.
At midday, as I was leaving, I sent a discreet goodbye to Julie, Jim, and some others who were there, and I was off. The rest of the afternoon, I did some chores for my mother and prepared to go out with Julie.
She picked me up, and we headed out into the beautiful, lush, rich English countryside. We planned to visit one pub, but as we drove past another in a tiny, quaint village, we decided to turn back and go there instead. It was a charming old country pub with low ceilings and wooden beams, and in the lounge where we sat, there was a small but lovely log fire.
We only stayed for two drinks, but it was enough and very enjoyable. On the way back, we stopped at our now second home, the car park behind the village library, for some kissing. It’s cold outside, but inside the car, it’s boiling.
Julie dropped me off after an hour; everything was good.
In bed by 1:00 p.m.
Thank you.
Thanks for reading this blog post. Please explore my other posts and share your thoughts in the comments section.
Richard
