Tonight at Gulliver’s we asked the manager to take a photo of us with my new SmartPhone. He took about a million pictures and the flash never went off. The man at the next table borrowed my phone, looked at it and said, “This doesn’t have a flash.”
So he took a picture of us with his own phone and texted it to my phone, which I was holding in my hand two feet from him. Instantly. Ah, technology–and the kindness of strangers.
The bones were smaller than I remembered. But there were more of them–six, in fact. Look how they dwarf Jerry’s swordfish. My leftovers will feed us both tomorrow. For dessert they gave me a free cube of trifle, big enough to share, with a candle on it.
Gulliver’s Restaurant is designed to look like the inside of Gulliver’s ship: half-timbered, with pencil sketches of Lilliputians and Brobdingnagians everywhere, pewter plates on the wall, copper pans hanging all along the counter, sparkly lights– Well, maybe Lemuel didn’t have all that on the ship but it’s the theme and ambience as well as the food which delight me and keep enticing me back.
Except on Jerry’s birthday. Jerry’s birthday is October 31st and on that night, Gulliver’s is a hideous nightmare of bony hands and straggly hair and volcano-tall pointed hats and twig brooms. It’s ghastly. Tonight we told the manager and he had us take our complaints to the bartender, who is apparently responsible for the desecration. We asked the bartender nicely to please stop decorating for Halloween. He said cheerfully, “Come the next day.”
As we started home, the moon was a delicate dish. On the radio, “The Fish” was playing, “His love never fails. . .”