Meet George. Our mascot, a gift from a friend at the restaurant where Gregory and I met in New York via the delightful Warren of Duckfat fame.
Here is non-living proof that totally fake can still be beautiful.
George met with an horrible accident early on in his career as a mascot – on his first night in fact, when somehow, mysteriously he lost an eye.
No one has ‘fessed up to the dastardly deed, but the Newtown Constabulary are confident they’ll find the culprit…
Ever since then he’s been winking at the guests as soon as they walk in the door, which is rather inappropriate really since he doesn’t know them at all.
Last night a couple of lovely locals wandered in looking for a bit of fried chicken and some of Andy’s Sundae love and inquired about our duck’s eyesight.
I explained the story, took them to a table and returned shortly thereafter to inquire if we were really a boring institution as the lady had taken out her knitting.
‘Oh no,’ she replied, ‘i’m knitting your duck an eyepatch.’
Knitting your duck an eyepatch.
That’s what i’m talking about people.
Those are the type of locals we’ve got wandering into Hartsyard.
Can you beat it? Tell me where else in Sydney you’d find someone so concerned with the self-esteem of your plastic duck, they knit it an eyepatch to cover up his misfortune.
And so now George, our mascot, our guard of the reservations book, our champion in times of an over-booked dining room, stands proud and tall, his wicker woven feet planted with confidence as he presides over his dominion in his new costume.
He’s rather debonair don’t you think? Very dashing and piratical.
In all the excitement I didn’t get his saviour’s name. But thank you sweet lady, George is one happy little man.
Happy Friday people, enjoy the weekend.