My waiter is over the ocean

My waiter has disappeared. I wait by the door for his return but I have not seen him
for two days.

Also, he normally uses the front door, but that is not the point.

The point is to publish dramatic pictures of my suffering to at least induce guilt, if not the hasty purchase of a ticket home.

Here is a picture of me having a lovely snooze but which looks like I am moping:

Waitress is under strict instructions not to tell him I am eating all my brekkers and romping around the garden in the sunshine.

I miss hijacking his feet in the morning so that he misses his train.