 I'M always impressed by the power of positive thinking. Take the Village Bistro in Hoole, for example. This is a terrier of a restaurant that thinks it's a Rottweiler; a flyweight that punches like a heavyweight; a small local bistro that treats food with the same reverence as a top class French establishment. The Village Bistro is a regular haunt for me and my three friends. We know it as an intimate and non-fussy establishment that has grown in stature through word of mouth and some very impressive cooking. But what if Jason Shaw, the chef, has a bad night, what if the service isn't as courteous and efficient as usual, what if Paul Geniali, the manager/owner decides he can't stand another Wednesday evening with us wittering on until 11pm and throws us out on to Charles Street in a fit of pique? What if, what if, what if? Well, it's Wednesday again and we arrive, rather like a good selection of 'dishes' ourselves. We've got one vegetarian, a couple of fish lovers, three meat eaters and four wine drinkers. The wine is on the table before I've hung my coat up. The conversation is in full flow before I've drunk the first glass. In the inimitable way that women have, we've covered careers, relationships and the state of the nation in the first half hour - without raising our voices. The rest of the time is divided equally, discussing our children and our men. At this stage in our lives we seem to get more hassle from the latter than we do the former. Paul hovers with his notepad. I'm relieved that our evenings are always 'girls only'. What if Paul ever let slip a tiny, little criticism he'd overheard from us about one of the men in our lives? If he does overhear, he never says - he's far too professional - although I suppose he could be jotting it all down as he takes our order (oh no, sorry - that's me). | 
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