Tonight we are staying in Poole. It's our anniversary, and we are traveling from Cornwall along the south cost to end up on the Isle of Wight tomorrow.
We walked into town and picked a simple looking Italian restaurant for dinner.
As we were seated the couple behind me caught my eye. He was your typical southern tough boy in designer jeans, tight Fred Perry polo shirt, blingy watch and crew-cut hair. And a faint whiff of an expensive cologne that somehow still managed to smell like Lynx/Axe body spray.
His 'bird' had a bottle of peroxide on her hair which was pulled in a horizontal pony tail. Classic Essex girl type, with a trowel full of make-up, probably her only overseas experience were her French manicure and a Brazilian wax.
Twice during dinner he got up. Weak bladder I presumed, but when he got up a 3rd time I started to think drug dealer. But this last time I noticed he walked past the window outside.
As if by cue, the chickadee stood up and started saying, "Excuse me, excuse me". The owner walked over and then the ridiculousness started.
Pointing at her their plate of potatoes she said there was a shard of glass in the food.
"Where?", said the owner dabbing his index finger onto the edge of the plate.
"Well you just moved it didn't ya?", she replied.
A 2 minute discussion ensued which finished with the owner walking away shaking his head. A minute later she got up and headed for the door.
"Not so fast lady", shouted the owner.
What could politely be called 'a scene' was developing as the discussion escalated, but hot damn if he didn't make her pay.
And so she left to no doubt meet up with her fella and plan next Friday's restaurant scam in another local eatery.
We skipped dessert and headed to Asda to buy something chocolatey. Because nothing says romantic anniversary evening like a bit of cheap chocolate from aisle 12.