Lancaster Market Hall. Pouring with rain outside. Lets see what 13,000 people have signed a petition to save. It’s the place to go for meat (I counted at least four butchers' stalls), AC/DC t shirts, pick and mix sweets or bath towels. 2 escalators in the middle. At the foot of one of them, a bench, on which a man was sitting, eating a battered fish with his fingers. Balcony Bistro is where the name suggests. Danny opted for the broccoli and stilton soup. I ordered a coffee and 2 Tunnocks teacakes. I was hungry but as I waited to be served I had the urge to choose something that was in a sealed packet. It was just a feeling I had. We sat overlooking the escalators. The place was swarming with plastic flower decorations. The rest of the clientele included a non speaking couple and three workmen tucking into roast dinners. I assumed they were workmen as their clothing was covered in paint. Two old women sat near the exit were demolishing a couple of helpings of corned beef hash.There was an old man in the corner eating a pie. Little conversation was taking place. The place was tawdry. Even the plastic roses had a coating of dust. Framed abstract art covered the interior walls alongside paintings of the plains of Africa. The stainless steel sugar bowl and milk jug, which the waitress brought out, were covered in finger marks. Danny’s soup came with a white barmcake, ready cut. He couldn’t manage the soup. Danny said he had a cold, he couldn’t taste it and it was hurting his mouth ulcer. As we got up to leave Pink’s “so what” started playing
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