He made a right show of me today. We ordered a croque madame (to share). While he was fretting for it to turn up, he kept fussing with his coffee and how lined up it was with sugar bowl and other condiments (let it not be said he's OCD) Anyway the next minute, the whole lot had gone over and completely ruined the brand new white table cloth they'd just laid out for us. In an instant two of the garconages swooped in, moving everything around and off the table, so that they could give us a fresh one - I'm talking linen here as well. As the food arrived, he got himself all excited again realigning his chair and grabbing his cutlery so that he had the best advantage to get the lions 'share' but the french tables are not built for Kiwi man's knees and the whole cussing coffee went over yet again.
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