Reasons why Fran can never go into McDonald's again

Our church is in the centre of town. Some Sunday mornings, I catch the bus at 9.20 on my way to play mediocre guitar in the church band, the instrument slung onto my back in its padded case.

The bus times don’t work out exactly so I arrive in town early and head to Greggs for a takeaway coffee to take to church with me. While I wait, I usually have what the young ones would call ‘bantz’ with an elderly chap who sits with a couple of others stretching out a large cup of tea and some companionship to last a morning.

‘Give us a song, love,’ he calls in his rough voice, pointing to my guitar.

I always reply something like, ‘Best not. It’ll empty the shop of customers.’

‘Ah, go on. I bet you sing like an angel.’

‘If angels sing like I sing, I feel sorry for those who’ve gone before us.’

This Sunday, though, was Easter Day, and there was a 'CLOSED’ notice on the Greggs door.

I needed another option for coffee.

Across the road from Greggs is McDonald’s. They face each other like cats might, one on each side of the street, watching its rival.

I haven’t set foot in a McDonald’s since the 1990s after an unfortunate encounter with a McMuffin that turned out to be a portion of sofa cushion containing, allegedly, an egg.

If it had been an egg, something truly terrible had happened to it around which Stephen King could base a novel.

But people say McDonald’s coffee is good and I was prepared to risk it as a one-off.

I walked in, thinking I might see my elderly friend from Greggs. He wasn’t there. I wondered where he’d be finding companionship that day.

I waited at the counter as I would at Greggs. Several other customers stood with me. Two female assistants took occasional glances my way as though they suspected me of having absconded from my care home, perhaps with a body in the guitar case, and, no, Richard Osman, you can’t have that idea.

But they continued taking money, slipping burgers into boxes, snapping plastic lids onto coffee cups and handing meals and drinks to waiting customers. Some slips of paper were exchanged. Barely any words were spoken.

Eventually I was the only one left at the counter.

‘Excuse me,’ I said into the void and surprised to hear no echo.

‘Yes,’ said one of the assistants, hesitantly.

I said, ‘How do I order a coffee?’

I’d nearly said, ‘How does one order a coffee?’ and am so glad I caught myself in time as I’d have lost sleep over that for weeks to come.

She said, ‘From there,’ and pointed.

I turned. I hadn’t noticed a square pillar, sited in the centre of the shop, on which a digital menu was displayed.

Now I realised why she’d been hesitant to speak. It was no longer part of the job description to converse with other humans. Perhaps when she gets home and other members of her household wish to communicate with her, they have to run through the basic vowels and consonants as a reminder. Maybe the alphabet.

‘Thank you,’ I said.

I approached the pillar as people approach Gorgons and drooling wolves.

Behind me, I suspected I was being observed by the two assistants in case they needed to call a manager and maybe the police. I dared not turn round.

I won’t go into detail about the mess I got myself into trying to order and pay by card for a white coffee but you know how it is when you’re in hospital and someone inexperienced is trying to insert a cannula or take blood from you and they jab about trying to find a vein like someone who’s lost control of a hammer drill?

I gave up eventually and left the shop, refusing to look behind me at the assistants, and I still don’t know whether:

a) I successfully ordered and paid for a coffee that someone else then claimed.

b) I successfully ordered a coffee but didn’t manage to pay for it.

c) I was not successful in either case.

d) I buggered up the system altogether and they had to call out an engineer and shut the shop.

e) The assistants laughed for a short time.

f) The assistants laughed for a very long time.

Further down the street is a Cafe Nero. It was open.

Inside, a real person with flesh and words and everything smiled and said, ‘Hi! What would you like?’

‘I’d like to kiss you,’ ‘I’ll have a white coffee, please,’ I said. ‘Make it a Very Large.’

‘Decaffeinated?’

‘Pff.’

‘Okay!’ She set about making my coffee while chatting about the rainy weather.

‘That’s £134.95,’ she said, handing me the cup, and I said, ‘It’s worth every penny to hear all those vowels and consonants strung together so instinctively’ and she gave me the machine and my card went BEEP so cheerily as though it too felt the joy.

On the way out, I looked to see whether my Greggs friend was sitting at one of the tables in Nero because I might have whipped my guitar out of its case and treated him to a rendition of Amazing Grace, even in my gravelly non-angelic voice. He could have joined in with his own gruff voice and we’d have done some church together, right there, with God not caring one fig that we sounded like a pair of tractors starting up.

My elderly friend wasn’t in Nero, of course. I’m not sure he’d have £134.95 spare. But I look forward to seeing him next time in Greggs for the bantz.

PS I found this video on Youtube in which a woman tells you how to order from a digital kiosk in McDonald’s. She’s about to press ‘Egg McMuffin’ and I had to look away.

Inside Fran’s diary

I’m sad that my online course called ‘Write a Radio Play in 5 Weeks’ run by Writing West Midlands is over. I got way behind on the writing although I now have a detailed plan for it. It’s called ‘The Runaway’ and, no, it’s not about a burst water main, you at the back.

Here’s the chat about observational humour I recently had with writer and Youtuber Danielle Krage for her ‘Comedy Masterclass’ channel.

And here's my interview with the fabulous Lucinda Hawksley, the author, broadcaster and great-great-great-granddaughter of Charles Dickens. We talk about writing memoir and novels and about the 1976 heatwave, fostering, Arctic Roll, Jackie magazine, teenagers, and much more.

I had a message this week asking me to visit a local book club in May to talk about ‘Cuckoo in the Nest’. I love going to book clubs, either in person or on Zoom. Let me know if your book club is reading ‘Cuckoo’ as I’m happy to be interrogated.

Also coming up later this year are talks to the local Probus Club and Women’s Institute plus a gig as a compere at the South Warwickshire Literary Festival. I’m also taking part in a panel discussing author promotion at a Warwickshire Society of Authors meeting.

At some point in between all this I’ll be editing the follow-up to ‘Cuckoo in the Nest’, working on Book 3, and watching Youtube videos about how to order coffees in this brave new world.