Lovely Table Just for One

On my way to breakfast, I found myself humming Englebert Huumperdinck’s (if you are 50 years old and below, look it up) song, Lonely Table Just for One.   

But I substituted the “n” with “v.”  It was lovely to dine alone leisurely in the coffee shop of Cebu’s Cuarto Hotel, my home for four days and three nights late last year. Within the hour, I would be picked up by my publisher for my book tour.

Engelbert loomed large in my youth. He sang songs that evoked angst, which was cool then. Now they call that “depression,” a mental illness. But I digress—and oversimplify.

Book tours take me to my readers, up close. My ears catch what they say about my books, and these serve as my uppers (again today, that word refers to cocaine, amphetamines, etc. and therefore a no-no, too).

“Then” and “now.” These words inveigle themselves into my blogs more often these days. C'est la vie. 

A bonus was the hotel’s elevator. It felt like I was in wonderland, which was partly true because these experiences are wondrous grace that enfolds me when I am out of town.  

 

Another bonus was the Robinson’s mall across the street. There I took unhurried walks between schedules.

Now I am back home to a lovely table just for two. Son #3 leaves very early minus breakfast. Son #1 takes a hurried breakfast about an hour after Tony and I have ours.

Here are the first lines of Engelbert’s song (italics, mine):

Lonely (lovely!) table just for one
In a bright and crowded room
While the music has begun
I drink to memories in the gloom (bloom!)