Morrison's Cafe

Last week I went to Morrison's Cafe with my friend.

We wanted cake.

I had a machine dispensed milky coffee in a big yellow cup that was the size of a mug.

It was chipped on the base.

She had a Pepsi.

We chose cake.

Desert apple pie and cream then a toffee pie and shared, bottoms and tops.

My friend chose a table in the middle of the room near an irritating child and shouting mother.

I sipped my manufactured coffee and stared around the cafe.

What's this - a face I recognise?

A face from the TV?

Now who is he?

Ah yes, he used to be Martin Platt on Coronation Street, I'm sure.

Definitely a lovey type wearing a darkly patterned shirt and clashing Tweed jacket.

I couldn't see the bottom half it was under the table.

I stared, rudely and wondered should I speak.

What would I say?

I don't even like Coronation Street and apparently he left ages ago.

My friend knew the details.

He was written out after having an affair with a younger woman and leaving (the character of course, not the man in the clashing clothes sitting in Morrison's Cafe).

My coffee cooled too quickly and frothed around my lips leaving a taupe moustache.

I wiped it with my sleeve.

My friend had read he had changed careers.

He left the show to make cheese!

I choked and spat taupe froth widely.