Rather a less successful lonesome lunch today. The waitresses studiously ignored me (reminding me of that brilliant George S. Kaufman epitaph for a waiter: 'God finally caught his eye'), and, realising I was not a native speaker half-way through ordering pudding, started speaking very loudly and clearly at me ('This cake has PINE-NUTS - do you know what a PINE-NUT is?'). Then, as the figurative faded cherry on my slightly substandard fruit salad, what should come blaring over their speakers but Celine Dion's 'All By Myself'. I couldn't wait to leave.
Still, I suppose it could be worse. At least I didn't have to participate in the sinister sex-game 'Bunga Bunga' with Silvio Berlusconi, unlike 'Ruby', the latest barely-legal beauty to be connected to the president. Shudder.