Trying something new: caramel apple Betty, with black coffee, at Gossips Café Yarmouth;

margherita pizza, cheese and onion crispbakes, and cherry tomatoes

Today I went out, with mum and a family friend. Unfortunately, we discovered when we pulled up outside our destination that it’s closed on Mondays over the winter. Our second choice of destination was also closed (I guess Monday closing is a West Wight thing), so after some discussion we headed to Yarmouth, figuring the only town in the area had to have something that was open.

And, thankfully, it was: Gossips Café, next to the pier and with views across the Solent to the mainland (or North Island, as some Islanders call it), ignored the Monday closure rules, just as we were about to give up on the whole coffee and cake thing. Gossips is the place I always head to at big times in my life: it’s where I went when dad died, on the day we spread my sister’s ashes, and at any time when a decent coffee and a sea view might mend a tiny bit of bad in the world.

It was just a pity that the family friend forgot I had limited mobility and parked an entire 70 yards or so from the café. I managed it, but when we got to our table I didn’t so much sit down as fall down, and my hands were shaking so much that my attempts to get my coffee cup to my mouth simply ended up with the coffee in the saucer. To my combined embarrassment and amusement, I had to ask for a straw; there’s a reason people don’t usually drink hot coffee through a straw, but at least I could drink it. The staff member who gave me the straw was very kind and told me to just shout her name if I needed anything; with my usual immaculate mental recall for names I have completely forgotten it now, but thank you anyway.

The caramel apple Betty was a new thing for me; if it’s new to you too, it’s basically an apple pie with a crumble or streusel topping, covered in a layer of caramel. It was very nice, I’m pleased to say: the crust was tender and crumbly, the apples soft but holding together, with just a hint of sourness to cut through the caramel, and the crumble providing some much needed contrasting crunch.

I even got to pet the first dog I have come into contact with since I went into hospital back in September of last year, who was waiting outside with her owner. Unfortunately all the attention proved too much for the sweet doggo, who was a recent rescue, and she barked her confusion even while her tail wagged happily.

By this time I was completely exhausted, so our friend went to get the car to bring it to me, and there I stayed while she and mum went into a supermarket to get us some fruit, as however much I buy in my weekly grocery orders it’s never enough, both mum and I being very fond of fresh fruit of all kinds. Mum also came back with a margherita pizza for dinner, to go with the one I had waiting in the freezer at home. I accompanied mine with a couple of cheese and onion crispbakes, possibly from Sainsbury’s, or possibly not. The crispbakes were good: nicely crispy outside, with a chunky onion and potato filling decently flavoured with enough cheese to give a good cheese-pull. (I’m easily amused when I’m this tired.)

The pizza, definitely from Sainsbury’s, tasted like every supermarket chilled pizza ever: vaguely tomatoey sauce, with a chewy-crispy cheese topping that tasted of nothing much. The cherry tomatoes were nice, though, particularly with their salad cream blanket.

Afterwards I had a pear, which felt ripe to my fingers but was less so to my teeth, then a pot of chocolate custard with dark chocolate chip digestives, a combination I can heartily recommend.

Tomorrow I have my PIP¹ assessment, something I have avoided thinking about so successfully that I have done no preparation at all, and just hope that won’t come back to bite me. Ah well, it’s too late to do anything about it now: I’m far too tired to do anything other than write this on my phone while half listening to Mastermind on tv, occasionally throwing out random answers that confuse mum by sounding like complete non-sequiturs. As I said, I’m easily amused when I’m very tired.

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1. Personal Independence Payment, a UK government benefit paid if you can convince their agents that you’re disabled enough to need it, while the agents try to manoeuvre you into a position where they can plausibly say you don’t need it, or at least that’s what many people who have been through the process seem to believe. ↩︎