Two girls

Two girls. The subjects of today’s post. Not two broke girls, nor two trailer park girls. These two girls were in a cafe, in Wellington, NZ.

They took the table next to mine. This was mildly aggravating – bags of other tables and I fancied some space – but there you go. Let’s not get too far off course with this one.

The first girl ordered banana pancakes and hot chocolate. Her pal chose the same items. Two pancake stacks duly arrived.

Although they weren’t speaking English, I definitely understood what was about to occur. Excited tones, something that sounded like ‘fotografie!’

Ugh, I hate this. People photographing their food. Are we not over this yet? As it happens, I have come up with an idea in this arena, but I need to stay on track for now. Moving on...

So these girls (twenties, probably, in case you’re wondering), snapped their pancakes – snap snap, filter bloody filter. I obviously directed my gaze elsewhere. (This habit winds me up no end. ‘I’m eating out! I must have a life! I must be so sociable!’ Get OVER yourselves, people – you are more than your bloody brunch. Just eat the stuff.)


They lost cool points, I lost interest. I enjoyed my porridge and tea (the down-to-earth eater’s choice).

Time passed. I poured another cup of tea. Glanced over at the two girls, and here’s the weirdness.

They had barely touched their panstacks. Each had a fork, and was holding it. A small amount of panstack was absent in each case. Being as discreet as possible, I observed.

One girl separated the merest hint of pancake from the mothership. I think she ate it, but it was hard to see and therefore say.

The other girl – opposite me, hence clearer stealth view – repeated the action: extract minuscule portion of dish, spear with fork, nibble. Both appeared thoroughly uninterested in/miserable about their food. Yet they continued in this bizarre manner, so it obviously wasn’t too bad to eat.

And no, there was no animated chatter to detract from the business/pleasure of eating. They talked, but not enough to justify this level of gastronomic disinterest.

So, dear readers, what is going on? Is this a thing?

Are they food bloggers who actually dislike food?

Did they order solely for the photo opportunity?

Why would you and a friend order food, make happy noises over it, then spend half an hour nibbling on a fraction of the meal, all the while looking as though you’d been forced to eat a four year old’s birthday cake after she’d blown out the candles leaving a glaze of saliva over the icing?

Answers on a postcard, please. Unless there’s a comments section below, in which case...