know each other?’
‘We do now,’ said Rav. ‘I hope we haven’t caused you too much inconvenience, Mrs, er…’
‘ Miss St. Paul. But I much prefer Lottie, thanks all the same.’
Rav was being super-polite to Lottie. Not just because they were sheepish about their nocturnal rampage, but because when sober his instinctive sense of being respectful to elders kicked in. He’d been well brought-up.
‘It’s not a problem, darling,’ said Lottie, making it abundantly clear that her patience had been tested. ‘I just need to talk to you about the complaints book.’
‘What complaints book?’ asked James.
‘This one,’ said Lottie, opening it up to the most recent entry. ‘I found it at the bottom of the stairs. Not sure how it got there, but there’s this…’
Lottie turned the book around so James, Rav and I could read it. Someone had scrawled: No decent gash, get some women in here, pronto!!!
James blushed deeply, Rav facepalmed.
‘You see in Portugal, a complaints book is a legal document,’ said Lottie, ‘See how the pages are numbered? If I get a visit from the local inspectors and there’s a page torn out, I could be fined.’
‘Listen, I’m so, so sorry about this,’ said James, looking at Rav in despair.
‘I’ll bet it was Harry,’ said Rav, after a small groan.
‘Yeah, the hand of Harry,’ agreed James. ‘Look, I’m sorry but this wasn’t either of us, it was probably the stag,’ I think he was worried Lottie would throw them out.
‘Oh, don’t look so terrified, darling, it’s not really an issue, Just a silly old book.’ Lottie shot me a conspiratorial look. ‘What I need is for you to cross it out, and write below it, saying it was put there by mistake.’
As James was saying yes, of course, he’d get Harry to come down and apologise and amend the complaints book, I was leafing through the previous remarks made by other guests. It was fairly obvious Casa Amanhã was a love-or-hate affair, with most commenters effusive in their praise. There were a few dissenting voices, though:
W e shall not be returning, intoned one comment, a man’s copper-plate handwriting.
Unbelievable. No wifi in the room and no phone for a wake-up call, what is it with this place? Haven’t you heard of the frickin INTERNET!!! The bubbly letters of a young woman.
‘Right, I’m going to get Harry.’ Rav pushed himself off his stool a little unsteadily.
‘No, there’s no rush darling!’ Lottie said this in an offhand way before turning to me. ‘Now would you like another brandy mel? Actually, I think you should try some Amarguinha…’ This added before we could respond as Lottie disappeared into the back of the kitchen.
‘What’s she off to get?’ asked James.
‘I’ve no idea.’ We sat in an uncomfortable silence for about ten seconds before I spoke again.
‘So you’re aiming to become a politician?’
James paused for a moment. ‘Yes. I’d like to stand for Parliament, I’m hoping the MP in my home seat will step down, soon.’
‘You’re a little bit young aren’t you? What are you, thirty?’
‘Thirty-two, actually. And that’s not so young, nowadays. Some people have already fought a seat by my age, a few have won them.’ There was a hint of bitterness.
‘Don’t you think little episodes like the complaints book might damage your public image?’
‘Uh, yes, I do actually,’ James looked slightly despairing. ‘To be honest, I’m not really up for this sort of thing anymore. I didn’t even want to come on the stag,’ He rested an elbow on the bar, ran his hand through his hair. ‘But it’s an old uni friend.’
‘And Rav?’
‘Also an old uni friend, why?’
‘Just asking, he seems somewhat more sensible.’
‘More so than me?’ James looked quite worried.
‘Well more sensible than whoever wrote that,’ I gestured to the complaints book, still open at the bar. ‘I feel sorry for his future wife.’
‘And I suppose you’re
‘We do now,’ said Rav. ‘I hope we haven’t caused you too much inconvenience, Mrs, er…’
‘ Miss St. Paul. But I much prefer Lottie, thanks all the same.’
Rav was being super-polite to Lottie. Not just because they were sheepish about their nocturnal rampage, but because when sober his instinctive sense of being respectful to elders kicked in. He’d been well brought-up.
‘It’s not a problem, darling,’ said Lottie, making it abundantly clear that her patience had been tested. ‘I just need to talk to you about the complaints book.’
‘What complaints book?’ asked James.
‘This one,’ said Lottie, opening it up to the most recent entry. ‘I found it at the bottom of the stairs. Not sure how it got there, but there’s this…’
Lottie turned the book around so James, Rav and I could read it. Someone had scrawled: No decent gash, get some women in here, pronto!!!
James blushed deeply, Rav facepalmed.
‘You see in Portugal, a complaints book is a legal document,’ said Lottie, ‘See how the pages are numbered? If I get a visit from the local inspectors and there’s a page torn out, I could be fined.’
‘Listen, I’m so, so sorry about this,’ said James, looking at Rav in despair.
‘I’ll bet it was Harry,’ said Rav, after a small groan.
‘Yeah, the hand of Harry,’ agreed James. ‘Look, I’m sorry but this wasn’t either of us, it was probably the stag,’ I think he was worried Lottie would throw them out.
‘Oh, don’t look so terrified, darling, it’s not really an issue, Just a silly old book.’ Lottie shot me a conspiratorial look. ‘What I need is for you to cross it out, and write below it, saying it was put there by mistake.’
As James was saying yes, of course, he’d get Harry to come down and apologise and amend the complaints book, I was leafing through the previous remarks made by other guests. It was fairly obvious Casa Amanhã was a love-or-hate affair, with most commenters effusive in their praise. There were a few dissenting voices, though:
W e shall not be returning, intoned one comment, a man’s copper-plate handwriting.
Unbelievable. No wifi in the room and no phone for a wake-up call, what is it with this place? Haven’t you heard of the frickin INTERNET!!! The bubbly letters of a young woman.
‘Right, I’m going to get Harry.’ Rav pushed himself off his stool a little unsteadily.
‘No, there’s no rush darling!’ Lottie said this in an offhand way before turning to me. ‘Now would you like another brandy mel? Actually, I think you should try some Amarguinha…’ This added before we could respond as Lottie disappeared into the back of the kitchen.
‘What’s she off to get?’ asked James.
‘I’ve no idea.’ We sat in an uncomfortable silence for about ten seconds before I spoke again.
‘So you’re aiming to become a politician?’
James paused for a moment. ‘Yes. I’d like to stand for Parliament, I’m hoping the MP in my home seat will step down, soon.’
‘You’re a little bit young aren’t you? What are you, thirty?’
‘Thirty-two, actually. And that’s not so young, nowadays. Some people have already fought a seat by my age, a few have won them.’ There was a hint of bitterness.
‘Don’t you think little episodes like the complaints book might damage your public image?’
‘Uh, yes, I do actually,’ James looked slightly despairing. ‘To be honest, I’m not really up for this sort of thing anymore. I didn’t even want to come on the stag,’ He rested an elbow on the bar, ran his hand through his hair. ‘But it’s an old uni friend.’
‘And Rav?’
‘Also an old uni friend, why?’
‘Just asking, he seems somewhat more sensible.’
‘More so than me?’ James looked quite worried.
‘Well more sensible than whoever wrote that,’ I gestured to the complaints book, still open at the bar. ‘I feel sorry for his future wife.’
‘And I suppose you’re
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