Three Men On Tour: 29

The problem was the smile. Actually the problem was the eggs, but the smile made a problem of the problem of the eggs because the smile made it difficult to complain about what a problem the eggs were. It’s possible I’m not explaining myself very well. Maybe it was the pulsing headache, but I made no better a job of it when Harry joined me for breakfast.

“How are the eggs?“ he asked.

“Well…“ I began and got no further because Harry is Harry and by this stage had already stopped listening.

“I think,“ he began, “that hotels must get their pillows from Guantanamo Bay.“

He paused. If I’d been in my right mind I would have ignored him, but he clearly took my bleary eyed silence as a signal to carry on.

“At first,“ he explained, “you think the pillow is just right, perfectly soft and plump, just right to rest the weary traveller’s head. Then, after ten minutes or so, you realise you were quite wrong and your neck is beginning to get a crick. That’s when you discover you’ve been given two pillows, when any fool can see that one would be sufficient. Obviously you throw the top pillow on the floor and reduce your stack to one. This time it’s only about nine minutes before you realised that the fool who thought you could do with only one pillow was a fool indeed. It was like tissue paper, I could feel every spring in the mattress with my ear. At this stage you feel you would be better off without a pillow, so you shove it out and rest your head upon your arm instead. It seems to work for babies, and as an adult, you assure yourself, you can only better the technique. Within a few minutes, your arm is quite dead from lack of circulation and you begin to realise the reason behind an infant’s appalling lack of motor control. And as for the constant crying… well I stopped eventually.“

“So what did you do in the end?“ I asked despite myself.

“Picked up the pillow and slept with my arm under it.“

I was so distracted by the metaphysics of this compromise that I failed to notice Harry catch our waitress’s eye and indicate by means of gestures and suggestive eyebrow wiggling that he would like the full English.

“You’ll regret that,“ I said when I realised what he’d done.

“I doubt it. I’m starving. I could eat an entire horse, but the quantity contained in eggs, bacon, sausage and a slice will have to do. Besides, you said it was good.“

“I said nothing of the sort. I’ve spent all morning trying to catch the attention of the waitress so that I can complain about it.“

Harry glanced at the table. Aligned in front of me, clearly brought on individual request, were a glass of orange juice, a pot of tea, a pot of coffee, sauces of all colour and variety, and a pamphlet on a local tin mining museum.

“Did you order those while you were failing to catch her attention?“ asked Harry.

“I was working up to it,“ I explained.

“If you work up to it any more, we won’t have any room for the cutlery.“

As we spoke, the waitress emerged from the kitchen carrying a plate brimming with artery clogging excellence. She walked over to Harry, placed it down in front of him with a dazzling smile, and returned to the kitchen leaving him to gaze in wonder at the feast before him. Harry sliced the egg carefully, balanced it on his fork and tasted it. At once, his eyes dilated, his neck stiffened and he contrived to emit a noise that bypassed his lips and emerged, somehow, from his nasal passages. It certainly contained no note of satisfaction. Swallowing down the bitter remnants of his mouthful, Harry sought out the waitress with a fiery eye. She was at her post, gazing wistfully through the window at the gardens, but quickly stood to attention when she noticed Harry’s stare.

“Watch and learn,“ Harry said as he summoned her over.

One thing I’ve always admired about Harry is his ability to take one glance at a situation and work out in an instant how best to take charge. It may be that others at the scene neither desire nor need Harry’s guiding hand but he will take control anyway, then look around with a slightly surprised air when the general acclaim for his handling of the situation fails to appear. Why I remember one time when we were on a train — I forget the trip but I believe it was London to Glasgow — and Harry happened to notice that a brown paper bag had been sitting on the opposite seat since we departed Birmingham. Immediately, Harry announced, ‘Oh, look. One of those unattended packages I hear so much about,’ then went back to his reading, while all around his fellow passengers began glancing in the packages direction and attempting to move surreptitiously away from it. When Harry finally noticed the heightened state of alarm in the cabin, he immediately put down his book and assumed it his duty to calm everyone down.

“What’s the matter?“ he asked. “You don’t think it’s a bomb do you?“

This immediately put the suggestion in the heads of those that hadn’t already come to that conclusion. One small child began to cry.

“Don’t you worry. I can sort this out,“ declared Harry and promptly went to the paper bag and shook it. This did not seem to calm his fellow passengers. Quite the opposite in fact, since on doing so the bag burst and a coffee cup exploded from the depths, threw its lid most violently and insinuated itself along Harry’s trouser seam. He spent the rest of the journey with wet trousers and dirty looks and it is difficult to say which of the two left him more uncomfortable.

All of which musing left me quite unaware of the goings on between Harry and the waitress. I came back to reality to note the tail end of the exchange, which had Harry smiling and nodding and the waitresses insisting that it was ‘quite alright sir’, she would ‘get it sorted immediately’. I must say, I was quite taken aback. I wasn’t sure whether I would prefer a refund or less runny eggs, but I was quite impressed with the assertiveness with which my friend had resolved the situation. At which point, the waitress returned, placed a bus timetable and a map of the area in front of Harry and left.

I eyed him quizzically. “I have watched,“ I noted, “but I am not sure I’ve learned.“

“I’m working up to it,“ he explained defensively and we said no more about it for the rest of the day.