Wimpy

[Tactical Genius]

I worked at the massive Wimpy that was opposite the Selfridges on Oxford Street back in 89/90.

I was a fast food restaurant and not a traditional diner. The beanburger was very nice, the uniforms not so.....

[Capybara]

I don't think I've been in one since we used to go to one in York after swimming, which means 1963 at the latest.

We both had the seasonal special - a hash brown with a fried egg in a muffin with fried mushrooms. The fries were crispy not soggy and freshly hot.

I walked past the Woolwich one this afternoon and saw this advertised in the window. It looked quite nice but I wasn't ready for food. Was it any good? And was it available without ketchup? If so, I might go back.

[Toby Gymshorts]

I was a fast food restaurant and not a traditional diner.

Typos are great.

[Tactical Genius]

Typos are great.

Don't judge me, I was young and needed the money.

[Toby Gymshorts]

We've all been there.

[WOM]

Or their.

[Toby Gymshorts]

They're?

[Various Artist]

Thare.

[laverte]

The Wimpy forecourt beside the hover port here in Portsmouth is a popular venue for people to throw up on. I'll be charitable and attribute it to sea-sickness.

A different, now-vanished Wimpy, in Chingford, was the venue for my first ever date. We knew each other from church and considered each other a bit odd, so some maternal coaxing had been operational on both sides. I don't know who picked the venue, but there probably weren't any better choices in Chingford in 1990. I forgot to plan an outfit and showed up in ripped jeans, girly basketball shoes, a Miss Piggy t-shirt, and one of those extra-short blazer things with big lapels and shoulder pads as worn by Mel and Kim. All from charity shops bar the blazer. I would have liked to put on some lip gloss or something but didn't know how to. I was 16. The look I was aiming for was streetwise yet homespun, hoping to conceal my absolute lack of sass, the legacy of several years at a boarding school in a small town where there were only about five streets in total, none of them imparting much in the way of wisdom. But my date made it clear that I just looked a mess. He also made a snarky comment when I ordered the banana boat for afters and ate it all by myself. (To be fair, it was massive: a whole banana floating in ice cream and sugary who-knows-what. Yet, reader, I managed.) We didn't kiss because I didn't realise it was expected/permitted on the first date, and he was way too timid to initiate, although I did hold his hand for a bit under the table. I was quick to let it go when his mother turned up to drive me home. Her brother was a bishop. Her car was full of dog hairs.

Postscript: A second date – Look who's talking at the cinema – was suffered through, and even though I made sure to eat less than my share of the popcorn, he studiously ignored the hand I placed on the armrest beside him. As soon as the wretched movie was over, he announced that he was dumping me. I cried bucketloads.

During Mass the next day my mother made me go up to his family and apologise, to free myself from guilt I didn't feel.

Shortly afterwards he began to study for the priesthood. Now, according to social media, he is a merchant banker.

Moral: When life gives you bananas, make a banana boat. A massive one.

[Amor de Cosmos]

Ha ha! Brilliant.

I don't think we've ever had a first dates thread in 20 years (which seems remarkable, but on reflection perhaps it isn't.)

[WOM]

That's marvellous. I'll read that a third time, later, and I'll bet it's still as good.