I was to meet the Gentleman Friend at the Kalei Cafe, where he was taking advantage of their superior internet connectoin to make some work calls. I went first to the Tusk Bakery just around the corner and bought a loaf of focaccia (thinking that given Lebanese proclivities a bread that rises and falls on its wheat and olive oil should be damned good) and a slice of banana bread to try. They didn’t accept cards and my $100 bill was rather too fat for a small bakery to break, so I went to the cafe where the GF was still on his call. I rifled through his bag and wallet – sitting directly in front of him, I should add – and rather enjoyed the thought of others at the cafe eyeing me sideways. In any event, the GF didn’t even notice, nor did he have the $7.50 I needed. So I dashed off to an ATM, got a wad of cash, then returned to the cafe to collect the GF. We walked to the bakery, down a quiet street which looks towards the hills and is lined with old buildings and jasmine. To my surprise, we later discovered two loaves, one focaccia and one sourdough infused with the inevitable zaatar, that the man had muttered about giving away for free; I hadn’t realised it was giving away to me. Anyhow, we bought some groceries and had a pleasant, quiet dinner at home and then listened to a little more of the Lord of the Rings. Specifically, the bit where the hobbits visit Tom Bombadil, a challenging portion if there ever was one. The reader managed it creditably, significantly better than the women’s voices or the songs. Of the former there are almost none, and the latter are difficult for anyone, so all in all, it’s a good reading.
I have been taking a break from Robert Fisk by reading PG Wodehouse instead. Tonight I return to reality.