We nipped into Halifax today to sort out our wills because we’re proper grown-ups and nothing says Happy Birthday for tomorrow to Carole more than a bit of death-related admin. And, of course, Halifax is where you find the best (only) solicitor I have every come across is my whole life. So it makes sense to go and see her.
As it was us, we were massively early. And as it was us, Carole was complaining she was cold from about three seconds after leaving the car. So we had to go somewhere warm to kill some time. Tempting as it was to go and sit in the coffee shop of Harvey’s – the shop owned by Halifax’s very own self-important Harvey family who have their fingers in more pies than anyone else, very Mafia-like, we chose Caffe Nero because.. well… sitting in Harvey’s is like being on the set of the film Cocoon. And there ain’t no oldies gonna be sucking my youthful life force out of my body.
Caffe Nero turned out to be a mistake.
It actually took us longer to be served in there, and to be sitting down with a coffee, than it did to sort out what we needed to do with our wills, ask questions and enquire about putting the house ownership into joint names.
It was fricking ridiculous.
They did employ quite a clever trick, though, to make you think you’re being served quicker than you actually are. By asking what drink you want, down the queue, you are led to believe you’re being served. That illusion is smashed, like a mirror with a large hammer, when you arrive at the till and have to confirm your drinks which are then made in front of you despite you giving the order some five to ten minutes previously.
Still, if it wasn’t for our sojourn to Caffe Nero we would never have seen a woman in gold shoes and possibly no skirt going into the market.
And no day out in Halifax is complete without that sort of sight.
And we’re back there again tomorrow, for some Escape Room action in celebration of the anniversary of Carole leaving the womb.
But we won’t be going to Caffe Nero… we don’t have that much time to kill!