I saw my 92 years old friend Betty on Boxing Day, and mentioned that I'd eaten oysters on the half shell at a Christmas Day buffet, and at my ripe old age I'd learned to enjoy them.
Betty's son Michael, visiting from Seattle said "Mum, I guess that there's a visit to the Phillippi Creek Oyster Bar in your future". He knows his mother's preferences.
And so it came to pass that I drove Betty, and my friends Ben and Bob for lunch there yesterday.
Betty and Ben are Oyster freaks. They each had twelve on the half shell. Bob had fried oysters. I, the neophyte, had six on the half shell. Good!
When our waiter first came to our table I said "this will be four checks (bills)". Ben countered "no, I'll pick up the tab".
Betty was vociferous in her protest. She allowed that Ben could treat Bob and me, but dammit all, she would pick up her own tab.
The waiter noted this conversation.
The oysters came and went. (There was no aphrodisiac effect - what should we have expected as two septuagenarians and two nonagenarians!)
Our waiter returned with two checks. One for Ben. One for Betty.
Both Ben and Betty are legally blind, so Bob had to look at the checks on their behalf.
Ben's check was for four meals.
Betty's check was a strip of paper from the cash register, upon which the waiter had drawn a heart, and had written "have a great day".
Our waiter had read the situation correctly, and we all enjoyed his wit and humour.
P.S. The oysters were so gooooood!