Guess what they’re turning it into? A bloody Starbucks. Why are those coffee machines so loud? It’s like listening to a jet engine going off…I’d find it more relaxing to sip a cappuccino on the main runway of Heathrow. People today seem very angst-ridden to me. I’m not sure more coffee is what they need to be honest with you.
You should see some of the women from head office that come down here. Their hair is poker straight, so shiny and they always look like they’ve been dipped in egg white, slightly glazed. I don’t know how you achieve such a look. Immaculate! Anxious though, they show up, unannounced and they move about the place with their notepads like a shoal of frightened fish. Well, they’re just as worried about losing their jobs as the rest of us.
They’ve done just about everything they could to pump fresh blood into this place. The toilets are no longer just toilets, now they’re ‘a congruent sensory branding experience whilst undertaking a necessary daily function’. The idea is to recreate the outside inside, so now we’ve got these bloody great big pictures of dandelions everywhere, but it just looks to me like the seeds have been caught up by the wind and are gently floating into a sanitary bin. I’m not sure that’s the look they were going for. Makes no difference to me, it’s still a wall I’ve got to clean. I get it. I do. I heard Stephen Fry once talking on the radio. He’s got a lovely voice, hasn’t he and he told a story about Oscar Wilde. Now apparently someone had asked Mr. Wilde why he thought America was such a violent place and he had said because their wallpaper was so ugly! But it does make sense to me, you know – there’s not much nature left to look at is there…you could easily spend a whole day in this town without having seen anything green – apart from the Starbucks sign that is. And if you live in ugliness all day, then you’ll feel ugly and do ugly things. It makes perfect sense to me.
An American man came in today and ordered a slice of apple pie but he left it. He didn’t want it. Ungrateful bastard. So I wrapped it up in a napkin and put it in my handbag.
When I was little, my mother used to make the most wonderful apple pie. I’d always ask for second helpings. And then one day I stopped eating it and when she asked me why I said, ‘I don’t want apple pie, I want an apple pie life’. I don’t remember saying it but ever since then, my mother would always say to me, “is your life as good as apple pie, May?”
Well, I’m still waiting for it to be. I’m still waiting for my apple pie life. I’m still eating it rather than living it I think. You never know, maybe the secret millionaire will come in tomorrow.