Back to Bromley for Miracle Monday

The BBC’s promise of rain was fulfilled as we left the Cucina after a late breakfast of toast, thin sliced Emmental cheese and coffee, promoted the plan to return to Bromley, this time to buy warmer clothes. The place to go for decent clothes at low cost was apparently Primark. We dutifully followed the recommendation our English hosts and were not disappointed.

I found a thick grey fleece that fit perfectly well before my internal circadian shopping alarm went off (permanently set for 15 minutes) and marveled at the £8 price tag (making Value Village look expensive). Wow, I actually felt the thrill of bagging a bargain. But that’s not all. At the till the checkout clerk, whom I am sure was trying to speak her native tongue, English, but was unintelligible without considerable guesswork and sign language, took a further 50% off. That made the fine looking fleece coat cost slightly over $6 Canadian (or American, since we seem to have caught up to the US buck). When I asked why the further discount, thinking maybe she was feeling sorry for the trembling foreigner in front of her and extending Parkinson’s month special to me early, she simply said, “Because it’s Monday.” Renae experienced a similar bonanza when she walked away wearing a winter coat complete with faux-fur lined hood for a Monday sale trifling £7 (under $11). Do they celebrate Mondays differently in the UK?

Feeling like conquerors, we were ready for an early supper and, upon asking some random fellow on the street who displayed no obvious culinary expertise and proved it with his suggestion, “The Slug and Lettuce”. Dismissive at first, and not asking for an alternative for fear of sounding ungrateful or eliciting something worse like, “Gizzards and Greens”, we figured it was either brash marketing (similar to some wine labels lately) or confidence in its fare. We tried to and found it tasty indeed, although we had been counting on escargot, which was not on the menu. The surprise came at the end of the meal. You guessed it, with not a sign or menu to be seen, the server presented the bill at the end of the meal only to toss the words over her retreating shoulder, “Oh, by the way, it’s half price Monday.” Amazing!

One more amazing Monday story. Remember the hung-over Foster’s lover I met yesterday at the bus stop? I saw him three times today in three different locations over a space of more than 3 hours. I think he is beginning to view me as an undercover agent with a case of mistaken identity.

Miraculous Monday it was, despite the endless grey rain that escorted us back to Farnborough, glad of our new warm coats, which together cost 50% of our ½ price supper.