Thursday, March 15, 2012
The Novel - The Ozone Cafe - Big, Bonza Greek Wedding
Vincenzo mused over the night’s events. He watched the children at the
shore’s edge, Mandy helping them to build sandcastles. ‘Was a great
wedding,’ he said, slowly lifting himself up from the sand. I had to
laugh at Winifred telling Con to get stuff for the café. She’s got some
spunk, that young girl.’
‘They’re business people,’ said Sandra. ‘They won’t take any notice of a young girl and what she wants.’
'Ah,
trouble with Satara Bay,’ said Rennie. ‘It’s seasonal. You only do
business in the summer time, Christmas, school holidays. It’s a bit like
the fishing. You have to reel them in while they’re biting.’
‘Hey, look!’ Mandy yelled from the edge of the water. ‘There’s the happy couple, let’s go over and say farewell.’
More...Thursday, March 1, 2012
The Novel -The Ozone Cafe - Big, Bonza Greek Wedding
The day had been set for the picnic. Vincenzo realized that they would
be all hung-over but it didn’t matter. Under the pine trees the cooling
shade was a relief not only to their foreheads but to a thirty-two
degree day.
They all had their heads craned over the Sunday paper.
‘This
was no ordinary wedding’, repeated Winifred, slapping out the pages of
the Times. She quickly folded the social columns so that she had a
fourth of a page in her hands. ‘Listen to this,’ she said.
More...Friday, January 13, 2012
The Novel - The Ozone Café - Greek Boys (contd)
Winifred
and Vincenzo walked along the esplanade, then moved further down the
beach. Winifred stationed herself beside him in the shoals, scuffing her
feet so that she made short splays of water. Of course, she was quiet
for most of the walk back home. Suddenly she flipped a major arc of
water out to sea, 'Vin, have you ever thought of doing another mural,
somewhere. You know, so that I don't bug you about the one you sold,
and well...maybe you could ask the Shire. You know, get permission to do
a wall. Maybe, somewhere near the swings and barbeques?' Winifred
raised her voice in a shrill tone as if this was the greatest idea she
had in ages. 'Yeah, that's it!'
'Another one?'
More...Thursday, January 12, 2012
The Novel - The Ozone Café - Greek Boys (contd)
The three men rose from the cubicle, Dion moving off to serve a customer.
‘Okay,
Vincenzo you helped build the café, so let’s have a look at the wall,’
said Con. ‘I think the café’s sound but I’m no builder. Maybe you can
tell me what’s going on?’
Con
released the bolt on the side door, the bright glare hitting their
faces. Winifred followed. The courtyard buzzed indignantly. Palms
crackled like rice paper. The brickpaving sprouted all manner of weeds
and four green umbrellas lay on the ground, their folds waving like
hands.
‘Let’s
see.’ Vincenzo poked around inside the wall, his finger following a
crack down the side to within inches of the mural. He sighed, then
patted the seascape like you would a horse’s flank. ‘You see Winifred,
the gods have been kind to us. There’s not a mark on it.’
More...Thursday, December 29, 2011
The Novel - The Ozone Café - Greek Boys (contd)
Greek Boys (contd)
Con and Vincenzo moved on from the topic of the Aegean Sea to food, both men raising their voices and smacking their lips. 'You must come and try our Keftedes meatballs,' said Con. 'You would like them in my special homemade tomato sauce. And our Mousaka and rolled lamb, sensational. The meat just falls off the bone. You know what our parents say, "Dion loves to cook and cooks with love."
Con and Vincenzo moved on from the topic of the Aegean Sea to food, both men raising their voices and smacking their lips. 'You must come and try our Keftedes meatballs,' said Con. 'You would like them in my special homemade tomato sauce. And our Mousaka and rolled lamb, sensational. The meat just falls off the bone. You know what our parents say, "Dion loves to cook and cooks with love."
'So your parents own this place?'
More...Wednesday, December 28, 2011
The Novel - The Ozone Café - Greek Boys
Greek Boys
It was obvious to Vincenzo that Con & Dion Lazaridis had either previously owned a café or some type of restaurant. As he stepped into the white interior, he had a sense of stepping back in time. A time when he had owned the place, a time when it suited his sensibility to be a proud business owner. That's what he had been most of his life - self-employed. Now, he could look on with a critical eye, but as his head moved around, his eyeballs popped. The frontage had been remodeled with large glass doors concertinaed to open, he guessed, as patio doors into the street for the bay's cool breezes. He noticed a small bar area to the right decorated with comfortable stools, red-plush chairs, Greek photos and paintings. He liked what he saw and smelled. Everything was FRESH! He was mildly amused when Con asked him if he liked "foreign foods." He had the appetizer sampler, and the Greek platter. The salad was fresh, crisp and perfect. The appetizer was flavoursome and well balanced. The gyro meat and chicken skewer were cooked exactly as he liked them - slightly crispy on the outside, moist and tender on the inside. This was certainly a step up from the cafe's last cuisine and the dirty place he had known as Joe Pendlebury's. While the Greek boys' service was fast he had previously noticed that the courtyard along Memorial Drive no longer had any outdoor dining. The old gate had been bricked in.
It was obvious to Vincenzo that Con & Dion Lazaridis had either previously owned a café or some type of restaurant. As he stepped into the white interior, he had a sense of stepping back in time. A time when he had owned the place, a time when it suited his sensibility to be a proud business owner. That's what he had been most of his life - self-employed. Now, he could look on with a critical eye, but as his head moved around, his eyeballs popped. The frontage had been remodeled with large glass doors concertinaed to open, he guessed, as patio doors into the street for the bay's cool breezes. He noticed a small bar area to the right decorated with comfortable stools, red-plush chairs, Greek photos and paintings. He liked what he saw and smelled. Everything was FRESH! He was mildly amused when Con asked him if he liked "foreign foods." He had the appetizer sampler, and the Greek platter. The salad was fresh, crisp and perfect. The appetizer was flavoursome and well balanced. The gyro meat and chicken skewer were cooked exactly as he liked them - slightly crispy on the outside, moist and tender on the inside. This was certainly a step up from the cafe's last cuisine and the dirty place he had known as Joe Pendlebury's. While the Greek boys' service was fast he had previously noticed that the courtyard along Memorial Drive no longer had any outdoor dining. The old gate had been bricked in.
Early
on, and wanting to check the state of Joe's patchwork, he had only been
able to see tufts of weeds through a tiny crack. It would be impossible
now to discuss the mural, let alone find easy access to it. It also
annoyed him that it was obscure to the general public, kept out of
sight. His artwork sealed away!
After
an hour he was served coffee and Dion the elder of the two brothers sat
down opposite Vincenzo. He poured the coffee and both men sipped it
back, their nostrils twitching. Their voices in pleasant moans and
groans.
'Makes me want to adopt Greece as my own country,' said Vincenzo.
'If
Socrates was alive today, he would enjoy this coffee. A little pita
with Tsatziki, some Ouzo maybe. No hemlock cocktail for him.'
'Ha, too right. You not use that outdoor much?' said Vincenzo, gesturing his thumb backwards towards the side courtyard.
'Nah,' said Con. 'Got enough to do in here, besides it doesn't look good.'
More...Thursday, November 10, 2011
The Novel - The Ozone Café - Up the Mountain
Up the Mountain
The cemetery, full of old burials, was an earthly hazard. Stones, brick and mortar lay scattered on their sides. Some headstones were either cracked or had fallen onto their shadows. The plots were so close together that Vincenzo had to walk over their dead bodies. ‘Sorry peoples,’ he kept muttering to himself. He toed it over several very old graves until finally, looking back at Mandy, he said, ‘I get nowhere, here!’
More...
The cemetery, full of old burials, was an earthly hazard. Stones, brick and mortar lay scattered on their sides. Some headstones were either cracked or had fallen onto their shadows. The plots were so close together that Vincenzo had to walk over their dead bodies. ‘Sorry peoples,’ he kept muttering to himself. He toed it over several very old graves until finally, looking back at Mandy, he said, ‘I get nowhere, here!’
‘We
are just getting lost the deeper we go along,’ she said. ‘I’ll go back
to the car and see if I can see some sort of entrance to that cottage.’
‘I wait here. Hey, look at this, a Harley Davidson engine, must have died on the bike.’
* * *More...
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
The Novel - The Ozone Café - Boards on a Café
Boards on a Café
She might have known. That stupid Pendlebod, how could he do it? Another time it would not have bothered her if a new owner came, giving the Ozone Café a new image of itself. New paint and cane furniture in the courtyard, she liked that. But now Pendlebod had gone too far, emptying the café of all the things she held so dear. She knew it would break Vincenzo’s heart.
* * *
More...
Monday, January 17, 2011
The Novel - The Ozone Café, Short-Lived
Short-Lived (contd)
Winifred
held a deadly look on her face as if a large snake had hissed at her
from one of the cubicles. As quickly as she ran out, she ran back in,
facing Joe and almost spitting in his face. 'Well I never thought you'd
change anything,' she said, pacing and raising her voice. 'I have never
seen anything so bad in all my life!'
'And since you got it wrong, the name's Pendlebury!' he yelled after her, as she ran her bicycle through the front gate.
'There's no need for me to come back here anymore. This place is a dump!'
Joe's
foot began to tingle, and his heart seemed to be screaming, tick, tick,
tick. He thumped his forehead, flicking his hand out at the Princess of
the Esplanade. Snotty-nosed brat, he thought. He rattled his hands hard at his side and moved slowly inside. At the bottom of the stairs, he called up to Shirley, but no answer came. The last forty eight hours had been a tiresome ordeal and now only
two bookings for the evening. He had other problems that he wanted to
fight off in his head, but they kept on returning. The borders.
Bastards. First stealing food from his fridge, now a month behind in the
rent. He stared long and hard at the Red Snapper on the sink, while the
scimitar hit a deep nerve inside his chest.
* * *
More...
* * *
More...
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
The Novel - The Ozone Café, Short-Lived
The two men leaned on the fender of the ute, peering into the engine cavity. Bill Sanderson began quietly enough, but soon his expertise on cars quickly emerged with a shake of the head, pursed lips, and then an informed choice of words. 'Generator's buggered, me old son. Look there, water's your problem. Easy fixed. Old Grumble Guts up at the Mobil should have one.'
'Yeah, I knew she was ready to pack it in. What else could go wrong, hey?'
'Least this will only cost you a few quid. My boat, poor love, ripped apart and ignored by the gods as my pride and joy.'
'You got insurance?'
'On
the store I have, but not with the boat. Well, I hardly ever take her
out. She's just been sitting there gathering bird shit.'
'Still you could always do a patch job.'
'What about your outboard?'
'Don't wanna know...'
At this point the two men were approached by a young piercing voice that would pass through a pyramid.
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