Saturday Morning at the Hotel Breakfast: early Saturday morning. As I left the room I told myself that I’d probably be the first down and that I’d be alone … the bananas would be safe with me: I was wrong! Status Quo was there: he of the white collarless shirt, jeans, black shiny shoes and a waistcoat. Honest, that’s how he dressed: early 40s I would think. Huge silver watch and nice aftershave or cologne. Quo said to the waiter: “What can I have for breakfast?” and the waiter, spotting the retro look and rocking backwards and forwards playing an air guitar said, quick as a flash: “Whatever you want”!!! Made me laugh! Here’s a warning: I don’t know this man but my experience of life has taught me that if a MAN (women are exempt so far) is wearing a big watch, he has problems of some kind. Maybe business, maybe personal. It’s like the men who wear expensive suits, shirts and ties, they carry expensive brief cases and then they wear cheap shoes: again suggests a problem. More than that, he sniffed and sniffed all the way through his breakfast: how common! There’s been a woman at the hotel all week who’s been smartly dressed, comes down at around the same time as me. She has changed her outfit every day, including today of course; but she’s worn the same shoes every day. Maybe they are her hotel shoes: after all, I wear my slippers around the hotel. Still, if not: a woman who changes her outfit regularly but NOT her shoes … isn’t that a poser? She says good morning every day and doesn’t act in an outrageous manner, doesn’t talk really loudly!! Two newbies appeared this morning and here is how I know they are newbies: newby 1: got to the bottom of the stairs and was faced with the door arrangement: frames, windows/glass in only one third of the fittings; no In or Out signs to guide us, no handles on the TWO doors … What does he do? Where does he go? He can see into the dining room but how does he get there? He stood still, standing close to the first door, looked furtively around for a few seconds as he appeared to be reviewing the bigger picture. As he did so, his hand slowly and carefully got to grips with the door and he ever so gently pushed to see if it would open! The door gave and he went through it. Classic body language kicked in then as he got to the middle of the room, in front of the breakfast bar and stood facing the bar, looking at the goods on offer and stood still, stroking his chin as he assessed the situation. newby 2: a repeat performance to the bottom of the stairs and the uncertainty over the doors. Newby 2 was transfixed almost, however, and then hopped from foot to foot as he started to panic. Then he launched at the second door, the one with the frosted glass in it! Of course it opened. He then almost faltered his way into the room, looking nervously from table to table as he wondered where he might be allowed to sit. He mouthed good morning to me as he launched at the first free table in the end, put his key down and then went over to the breakfast bar. I now assess that newby 2 is German: he got to the bar just about came to attention, almost clicking his heels together as he did so; and then bowed his head in that short, sharp downward movement that is so suggestive of a Teuton! No offence; but that’s how it went! The bananas were safe with me, today, in case you were worried! Oh and the bit about the waiter and the air guitar isn't true. The bit about the Status Quo looking bloke is true, though! Of course, I’d go mad if I thought someone was reporting on me in the way that I have just reported on the people here: assessing my newbiness, my watch (gentlemanly and unassuming of course!), how I got through the door … why I cut my banana with a knife and fork … where did I put those little packets of jam which, after all, I didn’t eat and didn’t leave on the table … and why oh why does he always wear the same slippers: apart from on Thursday when he was dressed in shirt, tie and excellent, highly polished, Church shoes! Let me record here and now that the Hotel Europa Garni in Sarajevo launders my shirts to the highest standards I’ve come across anywhere: clean, starchy and exceptionally well ironed. The crispiness stays in the shirt all day! Well done those plucky launderers. I’d say laundresses since I know they’re females but it would be sexist of me. It’s time to drift to the office but I can’t go as my digital camera batteries are just about to finish charging and I don’t want to miss the moment! DW