If you’d been walking along at noon on South Great Georges Street in Dublin, experiencing the last minute shopping madness of 24th of December, 2007 (as referred to in my previous post), you’d have found me and the chastened (but not chastised) kvetch stopping at a coffee place, just along from Dunnes, and opposite The Dragon.
I had a coffee, kvetch had a hot chocolate, and neither of us had a cinnamon bun because it was going to be another half an hour until they were ready, darnit.
Whilst there, I went to the loo. (as one does…)
I cannot believe I originally forgot to include this incident and had to include it in a later edit, I mean, how could this slip my mind?!?
Ok, encroaching senility aside, I shall continue with the narrative. :)
Kvetch proposed that I might like to queue and then choose whatever I’d like to have, and get him a hot chocolate, and he’d sit and look after the bags whilst I decided. That sounded agreeable to me, so I went to queue, found out the cinnamon buns weren’t ready for another half an hour, and just had the coffee and hot chocolate (and mug of warm water for my medicine), which were put on a tray for me.
As I finished paying, a rather attractive looking staff member in a stripey apron offered to carry my tray down to my seat for me, to which I said that was really kind, and I’d appreciate that a lot, and thank you very much. :D So this appreciably pleasing looking man carried our beverages down to where kvetch was sitting and put them down.
I thanked him for his help and admired his uber leet tray carrying skillz.
He responded with something about all the work and study he’d put in over the years to learn to carry a tray like that.
I riposted with my observation that clearly he’d been to the finest tray-carrying academies in Europe, because tray carrying of that standard just isn’t all that commonplace.
He rejoined with an appreciation for my discerning eye which can pick out the superiour tray carry amidst so many examples of substandard tray carrying.
He gracefully extricated himself from this increasingly silly exchange (which I was very much enjoying) and I had a chortle with kvetch about how I thought I’d identified another delicious submissive man.
“Ha, I know who you are….” I pronounced in muted tones, pretending to point to the helpful staff member.
Going To The Loo (Or, Finally Getting To The Point):
So anyhow, having headed towards the loo (as one does, when going to the loo), I somehow made it down the stairs to the Ladies without falling and breaking my face, I negotiated myself through the stall door on the left (as you face them, not as you sit in them). And there I found some graffiti which delighted me even more than the thought of that cinnamon bun I’d missed out on (but not as much as that service interlude ;) ). The punchline especially was almost (almost) worth missing that bun for. :)
One thing you may find it helpful to know, is that the DCU mentioned in the graffiti is short for Dublin City University.
In this very short post (for me), it is my great pleasure to share that truly spiffing representative of the Ladies Loo variant of the graffiti genre with you now.