The Cafe Andros is not Greek. It has white, smoothly plastered Romanesque, mirrored arches along one wall. Piped music further confuses the senses. They are mainly old folk at the tables, enmeshed in a low buzz of conversation. At one table is a young woman with a baby. When she moves towards the toilet everyone [...]
I guess she was half black, but what do I know. She was head and shoulders taller than me. Straight hair, waxy chocolate complexion, in need of something to give her system a kick.
The Habit gets some tourists but most of the regulars are locals who like the coffee or the chat, and they do [...]
The place was a first-floor restaurant within a department store. I was seated at the window overlooking an open square and the queue for the Viking Museum. The coffee was served in tiny stainless-steel pots and I drank it black and watched the people in the queue edging forward for a history lesson.
I’d noticed the [...]
Gerd is front of house. A taught and wired transvestite with an acrobatic mouth, there is something Scandinavian about her but you couldn’t say what. She is wearing a pinstripe suit with tiny two-tone black and white patent shoes. Swiss cotton shirt with a slim tie knotted Windsor style.
Henri has cooked a goose and we [...]
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