Kalender Cafe

Swains Lane is a little upmarket street with an Indian restaurant at the bottom and a Tesco Metro at the top.

There is an organic grocer and a shop that has patterned wellies outside it in the autumn. I didn't notice this evening. There are three cafes; Kalender, Mozart and Cafe Uno.

Kalender is my personal favourite. It's expensive so I don't often go but they do the best chocolate milkshakes for miles around. In the summer its terrace is full of people eating and talking and generally having a lovely time. Tonight the bright and warm interior cocoons families and friends at wooden tables. It is packed.

I sit outside. Two women are chatting on one side of me, and two men on the other. One of them smiles at me. Has he seen me on that dating site? I do not smile back.

I put my fags, notebook and pen on the table and order a pot of tea and an ashtray.

Instead of writing my posts in chronological order of events, I opt instead to start with what made me angry. Capture it, let it bleed from my biro.

"Message from the dark side" Foca. "Bully" OH FUCK OFF

RRRAAGH RRRAAGH RRRAAGH, write your RRRAAGH RRRAAGH RRRAAGH

My tea is cold when I finish but with exquisite timing, Steve arrives.

I don't want to talk about the Foca, I don't want to ruin the evening, so pass over it quickly. I talk about my blog. Should I be so honest about what I feel in them? Should I be telling the whole world I have nits?

Yes, he says, otherwise why do it? Creativity is good and I smile because this is what I said to my son just the other day.

"I'm hungry," he says. "I might have a bite to eat."
"Yeah, I better have something too."

The Kalender's bruchettas are nice. They have light snacks and sandwiches, burgers and jacket potatoes.

"Fuck it," I say. "I'm going to have the steak and chips. I need iron." At £12.95 it's the most expensive thing on the menu.

"I think I'll do the same."

I order medium with water. Stevo laughs because I told him I got drunk last night and orders medium too with milkshake.

We chewed on relationships, tried to make sense of ourselves. We both recently dumped people we liked.

"I really miss her but I had to leave,"

"I really missed shit school aquaintance. Sometimes I still do." I slice the tender meat, let it dissolve into my veins. Sometimes men and women aren't so different after all I think. It's so nice to be here, it's so nice to be here with Steve.

He orders a glass of House Red. I join him and toast him. He's doing stand up in a couple of weeks for the first time. He said he's going to spend Christmas on his own. I ask him, that if he does do that, to walk around the city then write about it for me. He says he might cycle it. Better option actually! Cover more ground.

We were the only ones on that terrace. I'd seen no-one else leave. The streets were so quiet. I wasn't going to go to the cinema. He said it was a nice idea earlier but he was going to go home and write.

It's such a perfect evening
I'm glad I spent it with you
Oh such a perfect evening
It'll keep me carrying on
It must keep me carrying on (Lou Reed featuring a very tired stigmum)