Moms are supposed to get a candlelight supper the day after they deliver.
Sit with a big plate of langoustines looking out over the harbour, bobbing with the boats that probably landed the food you are eating, and watch the world go by, or just get a fish supper from their own chippy and sit out on the harbour itself.
"Where else can you get a fish supper at 9am just by stealing it off a drunk that's been lyin' pished outside a close all night?" It is hard not to feel sympathy with the eternal loser, who chooses the lottery numbers 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 and 6 only to see 7, 8, 9, 10, 11 and 12 come up (he beats himself up with a chip pan), or Ricky Fulton's immortal Reverend IM Jolly ("that's Jolly spelled M-O-R-B-I-D").
He was ashamed to breathe deeply with his mouth open like a fish out of water and faint right there in front of his classmates, who did understand the texts… unless their expression of intense faith was nothing more than an act put on so they could later get a good supper as a reward.
Isabel attempted to get a conversation going at supper but nothing lasted.
I've noticed a new trend, though: often, the host will ting a glass and want guests to sing for their supper, and get a "general conversation going".
I returned the following year, around Thanksgiving, determined to get a bird for a holiday supper, and this time saw one: a speck on the horizon, running away at an impressive speed.
We know, for example, that in the town where our corporate headquarters resides, we can go out to the local supper club tonight and get a great steak with all the fixings for less than $20, around $15 for prime rib when it's the special of the night.
Why don't they get any supper?
