Ted's Cafe...

Ted's Cafe was an amazing place.
It was located just past The Netham, a tiny little cafe that was the feeding place of many an overweight and sweaty lorry driver.
I had walked past the place every day for years, the dirty lace curtains mesmerising me with their mystery, the shadowy figures inside a silhouette show of scoffing and swilling and smoking, all at the same time.
It was not a place for children, this was the home of Homodelivericus, a direct ancestor of Homo Erectus and Margaret Rutherford, an unusual coupling, but there you go. At any given time you could find a wide variety of Homodelivericus foraging amongst the pornos and week-old News Of The Worlds proudly displayed by the mal-functioning till. After ordering from a range of traditional cardiac inducing meals, Homodelivericus would then retreat to it's lair, which was invariably one of the wonky tables covered in a sauce smeared red plastic tablecloth. It was part of the folklore of this place that these cloths were never, ever, not in a million Sundays, ever,ever washed. It all added to the enchantment of Ted's cafe.
When I eventually plucked up enough courage, and money, and of course hunger..well, more hunger than anything else, I ventured forth into the den of intrigue, the smoke from a thousand Capstan Full Strengths wafting over,and in truth, through me as I nervously approached Ted, who was apparently 'cleaning' his tea towel on a dirty looking cup.
'What can I getcha son?' Ted said,smiling through squinty eyes, as his fag smoke stung his eyes.
'Er..um...er...'
"Come on son, I'll have a queue any minute..'
'Egg and Chips please Mr Ted' I muttered, a little scared as if Ted might refuse. This was, after all, a man's place.
'Coming right up son' he said as he removed the 50p from my grasp, and then clinched the deal,and the rest of the 50p, with a hard sale of 'Bread'nbutter for 5p?'..he had me,and my money, as I happily felt a little more grown up and found a seat on an empty table.
Ted was fast. Really fast. The egg and chips were delivered within five minutes, and the bread seconds later. Ted emptied the ashtray into his hand, and nodded, as if inducing me to try something else other than his food. He left, and I nudged the ashtray to one side and scanned my plate. It was an adventure. A voyage of discovery. For the first time ever, I had been served crinkle cut chips!
Ted's crinkle cut chips were no ordinary chips. To me, to have zig-zags on a chip was amazing, a modern foodstuff that was pure Space age. Ted had the knack, I also discovered, of cooking a chip so that it was red hot on the outside, but still partially frozen on the inside. A sort of potato based baked Alaska, a modern marvel, and delicious in the extreme. Ted's tomato ketchup was unique too , in that the vinegar content seemed to be higher than vinegar itself, a thin reddish water fluid that seemed not to pour over the baked Alaska crinkle cuts, but rather to spray in an atomised mist over the plate.
Amazing!
Ted's cafe was a taste of the sixties and seventies. And I thank him for the wonderful memory.