i wonder...

The work of a waitress is made for people watching. A slow lunch on a Sunday, or like yesterday, on a sunny public holiday in a restaurant with no terrace creates endless opportunities for analysis, curiosity and judgement.

I am judgemental. I am very critical. But above all, I am very curious.

So again, from behind the security of the bar counter I closely followed to tables, situated next to each other. In the other one there was a man whose manners and habits have over the years become very familiar to me. Normally, he comes in on a Sunday, sits down in the same table with his paper, which he places on to the left corner of the table while reading the menu. He will order the first starter and the first main course on the menu and a carafe of the first white wine on the list of wines of the week. He will read his paper while waiting for his different courses and often after desert with his coffee, with the bill readily placed on to the right corner of the table. But he gives his undivided attention to the meal – occasionally glancing out of the window on to the street. He is never in a rush.

Next to him there was a couple happily chatting and tasting the food from each other’s plates, admiring the dishes in a loud voice. They had arrived to Paris only an hour earlier and were staying for the long weekend before jumping on their bicycles and heading down to the world of Bourgogne wines. The lunch was the start of their 40^th anniversary celebration trip. If they had told me, when I played the role of a photographer, that they had just got engaged I would not have doubted them for a second. So happy they were together.  They had their coffee together with their desert to save time and after the last spoonful dashed out to explore the city.

When cleaning the tables and carrying the empty glasses back to the bar I wondered what I will look like to a waitress in thirty or forty years time.

I wonder…