Weatherspoons Part 2

James was twirling the menu around in his hands, feeling jittery.  Morag had been five minutes.  How long does it take for a woman to go to the loo?  What was she doing?  He could see the door, she hadn’t snuck out.  Shit, maybe I should go and look.  Too stalkerish?

He checked the time on his phone again.  Seven minutes.  He tried to distract himself by looking around the room.  An old couple nearby were both tucking into matching fish, chips and mushy peas with a cup of tea.  That reminded him- call dad, see how he is.  Tea.  Who the hell has tea with a meal these days? 

Just as he was getting really desperate, eight minutes! Morag re-appeared.  She was wearing loosely fitting black trousers, and a grey, clingy top.  That was fine, she looked nice.  But eight minutes earlier, that top was red and blue.  And loose fitting.  And she was wearing jeans.  He just looked at her, looked at her clothes, and words failed him.

‘Are you going to get us some drinks then?’  She looked at him.  He was still staring at her grey top.  She looked down at her cleavage, looked at him and smiled, waiting patiently for him to finish. 

‘You’re... you.   You look nice’ he continued to stare.

‘Thanks.  Bottle of red?’. 

‘James?’ She looked down at her cleavage too, ‘You can stop now’.

He looked back up at her face.  He wasn’t entirely sure what to say.  So he got up and went to the bar, glancing back at this lunatic woman who didn’t seem to have noticed she’d changed her entire outfit.  Were those shoes even the same ones she’s had on eight minutes ago?

He stood in the cue for the bar, glancing around.  On his last date here he’d had the displeasure of meeting a group of his students.   The barmaid gave him a stare as he approached

‘Bottle of  house red’

‘And two glasses?’

 ...........................................................................................................................................................

Morag continued to study the menu, and with James out of sight, allowed herself a smile.  It was always a good idea on these blind dates to be the insane one, there needs to be one, and it’s better to be that person than be with that person.  The shit day didn’t look to be getting any better.  The man was wearing a suit for Christ’s sake, did he even bother to change once for this date?  Could do with a whisky, but it’s not ok to come across as the drinker.  Not like the last time.  Mind, might as well just get pissed anyway, the man was a teacher, what the hell were they going to talk about?  Doubt there’s going to be a lot in common.  Bet he’s got a fucking cat as well.