Every day at 10.00 a.m. precisely Timothy Twaddle arrived at Celino’s Italian Café in Partick. He would have arrived earlier each day but it didn’t open until 10.00 a.m. on a Sunday where normally it opened earlier. He believed passionately in consistency. As always he chose table one, a table for two and faced the window.
He ordered two Morton’s rolls, one with Lorne square sausage and the other with scrambled egg, and a pot of tea for two. While awaiting the rolls he poured out the tea placing one cup full in front of him and the other at the other side of the table. Most of the staff knew, such was his typical pattern, where to place the rolls. He always had the Lorne sausage and the scrambled egg was placed across the table from him.
Occasionally, however, a new member unaware of Timothy's ways would place both rolls in front of him to which he would sternly point out that the scrambled egg should be placed at the other side of the table opposite him.
“But there’s no one there,” the server would say.
“My dear,” he would reply, whether he addressed a he or a she. “My friend always has the scrambled egg.”
Then the astounded server would mostly repeat, “But there’s no one there.”
“My dear,” Timothy would also repeat, “My friend Donald doesn’t eat much, in fact he is fading away to a shadow.”
Notably as the server looked down upon the vacant seat a shadow was apparent, created by the sun coming through the window being split by a pillar just inside,
“A shadow?” was the obvious response.
“Yes, he hasn’t been the same since his dog died.”
“Oh, I see,” meaning the server didn’t. “Since his dog died,” then to go off to join the rest of the staff group who were well aware of Timothy and Donald. They would remind the sever not to mention anything again to Timothy. Then all would be well until a new member of staff arrived.
Notably, Timothy would always eat the scrambled egg roll too, after the Lorne of course, always saying, “No need to waste it Donald,” and off he would go each day at precisely 11.00 a.m., until the following day when he or they would be back at 10.00 am to repeat the event time and time again.
Well, that was until one morning when as a prank one member of the same staff group, a young whippersnapper called Matt, contrary to the Italian classical stuff entertaining guests, put on a new piece of music on the sound system. Timothy and Donald abruptly left and were never seen again in there, being seen often in the Swiss Cottage café on Byres Road.
On the day in question, however, as he left Celino’s, Timothy turned to the manager and said he wasn’t impressed by the taste in music that day. “Me and my shadow,” he said, “is not my favourite song.” The song was never played again in Celino’s and that establishment lost a good customer or maybe two good customers.
