I order 'catch-of-the-day' at a beach-side restaurant. I am wearing a white cowboy hat to protect my head from the sun. It has rhinestone encrusted on the front and does not belong to me. The young waiter seems amused by my attire. He is wearing a turquoise polo shirt and white chinos. His head is shaved and he has no need of protective headgear. He appears constantly on the point of collapsing into laughter.
When he brings the bill, I ask my question. 'My mother named me after all of the angels', he tells me by way of explanation (his first name is that of another). I ask if he has lived up to it. 'Yeh', he replies, nodding.
(In the apocryphal book of Adam and Eve the Angel Michael looks after the disgraced pair when they are cast out of the Garden of Eden. He teaches Adam to farm and even persuades God to let Adam's soul ascend to heaven at his death. He is, apparently, also responsible for saving Daniel from the lion's den, the plague on Egypt that eventually led the Israelites to freedom and spurring on a young Joan of Arc. An impressive list of achievements for my waiter to pit his own against.)
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