In other words, it's the same again

I was in our local village pub yesterday when I was asked one of the most searching questions it is possible to be asked.

"Same again?" said a voice in my ear.

I looked up at my potential benefactor, Randolph, the village linguist.

"Ah, but is it actually possible to have the same again?" I asked. "One can always have something very similar again, or the same sort of thing, or a repeat order, but can one have the same again? Exactly the same?

"My last drink was a unique experience, unrepeatable, so for you to ask me if I want the same again is, to say the least, mischievous."

"I take your point," said Randolph. "Or, to put it another way, I see you are in your village pedant mode and I have no wish to disturb you. Perhaps I will go elsewhere."

"No, stay a while," I said. "You are a gifted linguist. How do they deal with this in other languages?

"In French bars, when someone places a repeat order, do they ask for the same again? Encore la meme chose? Or do they have a more Cartesian way of doing things?"

"They have an interesting distinction in French," said Randolph. "A distinction which we do not have. When we break a glass, we ask to be brought another glass, right? 'Another one, please,' we say. If we just want seconds of a drink, we also say, 'Another one, please,' do we not? In other words, 'another glass' can mean either 'a new and different glass' or 'the same glass, refilled the same way as before'."

"I'll drink to that," I said, hoping I would soon get the chance.

"In French they have different expressions for both meanings. They say either 'encore un verre, svp,' meaning 'same again', or 'un autre verre, svp,' meaning 'bring me a new and unbroken glass'."

There was a moment's pause, for my amazement and Randolph's self-admiration. Then the landlord broke into our non-conversational silence. "That would be one in the eye for Nigella Lawson," he said.

We looked at him.

"The daughter of the former Chancellor, Nigel?" asked I.

"The same."

"The one everyone thinks is named after the man himself, whereas Nigella is actually quite a common flower name?" asked Randolph.

"The same again," said the landlord, unconsciously echoing our previous conversation.

"What on earth has she got to do ..."

"She was on Start the Week on Radio 4 this morning," said the landlord. "She said at one point that outside the big cities, the conversation and food were terrible. Well, I was just listening to you two talking, and I thought that although what you were saying was pretentious and sickening, it was not bad conversation."

"She said what?" asked Randolph.

"She said that the conversation and food outside big cities were terrible. I may be misquoting her. She may have said 'awful'. Or 'disastrous'. But that was the general idea."

There was a pause. "Did she specify which big cities?" asked Randolph.

"No. But I think we can assume she meant London.

"Later in the programme, Melvyn Bragg said that London was a much better place than Paris or New York. I expect Nigella Lawson would have gone along with that.

"Incidentally, do you want me to get you anything to eat? The bar snack of the day has almost run out."

"And what is your bar snack of the day?"

"Crispy filo pastry with chicken, lemon-grass and leek."

"Oh, no! Not crispy filo pastry with chicken, lemon-grass and leek again!" we said disgustedly. "Haven't you got any big city food?"

"No suh," said the landlord. "We's just country boys round here."

He passed scornfully on down the bar.

"Do you think Start the Week is an example of the kind of conversation they have in big cities?" Randolph asked me.

"No," I said. "It isn't actually a conversation at all. I think it's just designed to start conversations. It's something for people in London to talk about. At least, it gives London people something to have conversations about until the next programme to talk about comes along,"

"Like Midweek?"

"I don't think Midweek is designed to be talked about. I think it is designed to keep quiet about."

"So what do we poor starved people in the country talk about then?" asked Randolph.

"We ask each other if we want the same again."

"Same again?" asked Randolph.

"Yes, please," I said, ignoring the Cartesian ramifications.