Restaurant’s act of kindness left a pleasant taste

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In a world that went to the dogs some time ago, it is a welcome surprise to be treated well by a stranger, especially one who has nothing to gain from it.

Last Wednesday my mum was admitted to hospital many miles away with a nasty chest infection and complications with her diabetes.

When I went to visit her the following morning, she had the temperature of a boiling kettle and was making as much sense as the HAL 9000 supercomputer after he’d flipped in the film 2001: A Space Odyssey.

Thanks to the marvellous nurses and doctors, within the hour they had brought her temperature down from that of piping hot tomato soup and were well on the way to stabilising her blood sugar levels which were off the chart and through the roof.

But two days later, even though she had been pumped full of fluids, she still wasn’t eating much.

Her favourite meal is eggs benedict so on Saturday I went to her favourite restaurant which makes sublime eggs benedict, explained the situation and asked if I could order it to take away.

All ready to mount my high horse if they refused to do takeout, I was shocked and delighted when the waitress said that it was no problem at all, brought the delicious breakfast in a natty takeaway box and hoped my mum was feeling better soon.

Not only that, she refused to take a penny in payment.

Wouldn’t even accept a tip.

Wow. I’ve never been treated so well. I was touched.

And the only reason I’m not naming the place is so that some of the more unscrupulous among you do not invent a poorly mum tale in an attempt to get a free meal there.

Sadly the story doesn’t have a happy ending.

The smell of the food made mum’s stomach do somersaults and she couldn’t eat it.

Still, it’s the thought that counts, and once she’s better we’ll be going back to that restaurant, we’ll eat like royalty and give that lovely waitress an embarrassingly large tip.

Finally this week, yours truly turned 46 on Sunday.

Or to put it another way, nearer to 60 than 30.

Women in their 20s view me in the same way as they’d look at a road sign.

And being invisible is quite nice.