Primrose is awoken out of her trance, by the appearance of the same tall waiter. As she has been there in the hotel motionless for some time now he has become rather worried. Primrose reassures him with her widest and sweetest smile that everything is fine and turns her attention to the computer and then to her notes. She has jotted down all the different lengths of the footballers’ shorts since clubs had to have reglamentary kits in 1870 when football was dominated by former public school clubs and players. Before that date, each team would be distinguished by wearing distinctively coloured caps, scarves or sashes. Each player wore what he could manage to buy, and in the case of those who did not come from the wealthier classes, they resorted to simply cutting up their trousers at the knees instead of wearing fancy knickerbockers.
Primrose smiles to herself as she sees what she considers to be crazy colours – pink, black, cerise even primrose. “Ah,” she chuckles, “That’s where my interest in football comes from.” The ideas in her head seem to become more colourful and multiply. Images of fancy footbfall fashion appear before her eyes.
The tall waiter returns with another cup of coffee for Primrose. He tuts to himself, as he had always thought that English people drank cups and cups of tea, not cups and cups of coffee. This extravagant character, who lives in Grado del Pico, is something of a personality in Ayllón and Riaza where she sells her ecological eggs and her plum jam in the markets, claiming that the jam gives people energy and confidence.
He looks at her again and at what he considers to be her doodling. But much to his surprise, he discovers that there is something more than doodling on her note-pad. Unfortunately for him, Primrose catches his gaze and makes a discreet attempt to hide what he is looking at, so without discovering her secrets, the tall waiter moves silently and sullenly away………