Dinner. Friend.

I was supposed to go visit my friend Ian tonght for a couple of beers and a wide-ranging discussion about everything, but I'm feeling a little under-the-weather and decided to stay home. An early night. I have a sore throat and a mild cold. And am generally a bit miserable.

I decided that what I really needed was a laksa, and as luck would have it there's a very good little malaysian place near me. I went there looking superbly sporty in my tracksuit pants and fleece (not, I hasten to add, a bogan tuxedo, but close).

I went in, they showed me to a table, I sat down and ordered immediately. "A chicken laksa", I said to the waitress. "Anything else..?" she asked, in a way that seemed to me to suggest that I really should be spending more than $10. I'm normally pretty immune to that sort of thing (or maybe I'm just imagining it - you know how over-sensitive I am in restaurants) but I did want something else.

"Belachan kangkong, if you have it".

She looked at me as though I'd suggested she lie down on a linoleum floor naked while I rolled hard-boiled eggs at her. I said it again slowly and tentatively, "Belachan kangkong". She stood there, mystified. I grabbed the menu from her and pointed, by which time the proprieteress had joined us. I jabbed at the menu with my finger "there.. belachan kangkong.." They looked at each other. "Belachan kangkong", they repeated to each other in surprised tones, and it sounded exactly the way I'd said it first.

And before you start, Malay's not tonal. So let's not do that whole blame-the-victim thing.

Anyway. They brought it all out and it was superb. Then, as I was paying the bill I chatted a little with the proprieteress, a middle-aged cheerful chinese woman.

Her: "Did you enjoy your meal?"
Me: "Yes, very much indeed.. just what I needed"
Her: "You are all alone tonight, where's your friend?"

I've been there maybe five times over the last year, and always alone. Which friend? Or was it a metaphysical question?