A little of the paper war about Revolver spilled over into the physical world on the weekend. I was taking Nessie out for her evening constitutional, just as the café was closing round about 4 o’clock. As I neared the corner I became aware of raised voices. Rod, the café owner, was standing at the fence of nearby neighbours, and both the man and the woman of the house were making a lot of noise with their mouths. I’m a dreadful reporter – I couldn’t distinguish a word they were saying. But as I passed them, their little dogs came charging at the fence yapping furiously at Nessie. Nessie, of course, responded in kind and I was preoccupied with getting her to the corner. I did hear Rod say, with admirable calm, ‘Well, all I can say is, go ahead and take more photos …’ Someone told me that he had offered them free breakfasts, but it seems they are implacable.
Apparently just before I arrived on the scene, the outraged neighbour had shouted into the cafe, urging Rod to pack up and leave because no one wanted him there, and then seized the brass ashtray, threatening to smash it on the footpath. Oh dear!