A King sized steak

Sitting in a Diner, "The Smoke Haus" in Wind St, Swansea I was on a mission. I had been told to try this place out, specifically the Ribs which for someone 9500 miles away seemed to be the bees knees.
"They" were salivating with every entreaty to visit this eating house and so today at lunchtime I did as bid!!
Ribs are off my personal menu, it's the teeth you see I'm not sure how they will stand up to it but the menu had other things. Burgers for Africa and a range of steaks that were impressive, at least in size.
Years ago, about 1962/3 I went to a steak house in Sea Point called Walters Grill. Run by two enormous Hollanders. Their Walters Special was a thing to behold never mind taste. Rhodesian beef and cowboy appetites were the Oder of the old South Africa. A bit like Texas everything was bigger and better and without doubt these Walters Specials were the best. I don't know the size in ounces but he served them on a wooden breadboard sized board with the steak covering every inch and about 3/4" thick. It was a tour de force to get through it but it was delicious, cooked to perfection on an open fire and tender as slow raised beef was in those days when time and market pressure hadn't become a factor.
I would have said it probably weighed in at 35 - 40 oz.
Today's menu said 24oz. Usually steak is served between 8oz to 12oz and so when I saw the 24oz tag I thought of Walters, happy days !!
It wasn't bad but it was well short of the Rhodesian cut, too many gristly bits.
Anyway as I drank my wine and slowly demolished the steak I had time to cast my eyes around at my fellow diners. Largely women, "large women" in fact,  in their late 20s early 30s who gather to feed and gossip with scarcely a worry. They didn't seem pressured for time and we're still there as I left.
Another table contained a woman who had what seemed like random butterfly's down from her shoulder. Below the elbow her arm was black with the ink of a solid tattoo it was as if she was wearing those arm warmers you sometimes see the African Marathon runners wearing on the cold mornings over here as they line up to demolish our local talent. She had a bearded husband who had little to say for himself and a loverly 2 year old child who was contentedly sitting in a pushchair. Not a tattoo on her yet but what chance has she when Mom fills in the spare spaces not yet covered on her own body and feels the urge to decorate further.
Well like a python I'm slowly digesting my meal, so don't disturb and I'll be back !!!