YOU MIGHT LIKE TO SHOW US THE CONTENTS OF YOUR WALLET BEFORE YOU ORDER...

      And so it came to pass,that the dawn of yet another Bank Holiday Monday broke bringing with it the unexpected bonus of wall to wall SUNSHINE and the resultant prospect of the inevitable arse ribbing to follow.
Ever prepared for battle, Chef girded his loins with some tasty but easy to plate up options designed to get him out of the shit, whilst yours truly fuelled up with a bit of sausage action in the form of full English and a mug of builders tea.
Surprisingly,despite the onslaught of hungry day trippers seeking out their first beer garden action of the season,in what may only be described as a rare but welcome fluke we managed to retain control ALL DAY,helped in no small part by the consideration of the diners who kindly booked and spread themselves conveniently out over the course of the afternoon.
There were a couple of minor glitches,one in the form of the the party of seven who managed to commandeer the last remaining table which somewhat inconveniently only seated six.As we all know seven into six don't go so helpfully I whipped a spare chair from an adjacent table and placed at the end of the table to accommodate the seventh guest.The extra chair now being sited in the main route through the dining area,a course of action I would not normally have taken and borne out of my uncommonly generous demeanour due to the fact that proceedings were going so swimmingly well,a decision which would later prove ill advised.
This was in fact a schoolboy error.Any waiter will know about checking distances between tables or to be precise spaces between chairs.You have no idea how far away from the table some diners like to pull out their chairs.Personally I cant see the attraction with eating ones food at arms length but back to back chairs and no space to pass through is an occupational hazard of the diligent waiter.Diners,however are completely oblivious to the problems this causes.Rarely will they tuck themselves neatly under the tables,preferring to be bumped and squeezed,but ever determined to hold their ground.
I digress,by my next foray from kitchen,plates in hand, The Seventh Guest was comfortably in situ at the table. We had no prior knowledge that Jabba the Hut was making a short promotional tour of provincial cinemas and would drop by for a spot of light lunch and barricading.
There was no point in asking that the chair be pushed in,the mass was filling the void completely.
Chef peered inquisitively through the regulation fire retardant door that delineates  Front of House from kitchen territory:
'I don't think have enough food for him'
'Her' I promptly corrected.
Joy.
There was now a no through route from kitchen to bar with plated food destined for that area travelling out via the dining room fire exit, and amusingly re-ntering via the front door.
Hey-ho,one could do with trimming off a few pounds..

Later in the day I encountered possibly the rudest individual yet to grace our humble hostelry.
Perhaps you would allow me to provide a little background information first..
There exists in nearby *small market town* an initiative to encourage shoppers to support small independent shops.To be precise the scheme involves a loyalty card through which local businesses can offer discounts or incentives to shoppers.A regular customer of ours approached us and asked if we would participate in the scheme as they were short of eating out venues and wanted to provide a good range of outlets to generate sales of the card.Being upstanding pillars of the community and recognising the value of supporting the local economy we agreed to get onboard.
 Chef however,had a much better idea to keep business in town:
'Why don't they just get rid of the parking charges'.
I keep telling him he should go into politics.
Anyhoo,back to the tale.
A couple approached the bar fairly late in the afternoon,just prior to last orders.The Cynical One politely enquired were they wanting to eat.
The tweed jacketed fellow stared blankly at her then with some force replied 'Yes'.The tone of his voice negating the necessity to tag 'of course' on to his reply.

Admittedly we are a food driven pub, but oddly we do on occasion manage to attract those of the 'drinking only' mindset.

'How many are you?'
Victor Meldrews brother frowned and channelling his very best Marcel Marceau looked pointedly behind himself and his wife,raised his eyebrows with contempt before replying brusquely 'two'.
To the inexperienced onlooker,the enquiry for the number of diners may have seemed pointless,but actually what a shame it would have been if the assumption had been made that the table was for two and then unbeknownst to ourselves he had proceeded to extract his elderly and infirm mother in law from  the car only to find there was in fact no room at the inn? and you know its not actually unheard of for a single individual to request a table prior to unloading the entire cast of 15 kids and Counting from the car.
As they were shown to the table,the blackboard menus were pointed out to-whit more raised eyebrows and muttering culminating in 'YES I CAN SEE'
Id forgotten about him until I was serving a nearby table and as I glanced over,I could see him sitting arms folded,brow furrowed with an uneaten bread and butter pudding sitting on the table directly in front of him.

'Is everything ok?'
'No-Im not enjoying this at all.The top is crunchy and its swimming in COLD CREAM'
This is a tricky one,did Sir expect the cream to be hot perhaps?
I looked down at the plate,there was no more than a smidgeon of cream,I would even go so far as to say the depth of cream was as shallow as a worms grave.
Best just accept defeat.
'Would you like me to get you something else instead?'
'NO- JUST GET ME THE BILL'
Shortly afterwards I was aware of a minor altercation at the bar.
As I approached I overheard The Cynical One say:
'No its not a discount'
I could see him clasping his *small market town* loyalty card.
'Is there a problem?'
'Yes,Im trying to use this card and the girl wont accept it'
'AH yes let me explain,our offer is a glass of house wine with your main course'
'but I didn't get a glass of house wine'
'Did you ask for one'
'No I had a J20,but i wasn't told I could have one'
'Did you mention you had a *small market town card*'
'No-but you should have asked me if I had one and told me what I could have'
And presumably run through any other discount cards and vouchers you might have collected just in case?Oh and what about American Express Sir ? That will do nicely and you can rack up some air miles at the same time..
*Breathe*
This is a typical shopping at the sale mentality:I don't really want it but Ill get it anyway coz its cheap/free.
Sigh.
'Would you like your free glass of wine now'
'NO ITS TOO LATE'
At this point I thought Id try and divert the conversation,focus on any positives,usually a winning smile confuses the hell out of complainers..
'But did you enjoy your meal??'( beaming and nodding encouragingly)
'It was all right.....It wasn't great'(with vigour)
The wife standing two paces behind displayed a vacant and despondent expression.
'Well Im very sorry but usually holders of the card mention they have one and then ask what offer we have'
'Well I'll know for next time then wont I?????? EXCEPT THERE WONT BE A NEXT TIME..!!'

Later when I repeated the conversation to the kitchen, Chef politely enquired:
'with respect to that last statement 'except there wont be a next time' I trust you got him to put that in writing...'




CUSTARD UPDATE
Readers of the previous post may be interested to learn that the Custard Woman paid us an unannounced visit yesterday to claim her gratis luncheon.Can you believe she viewed the pudding menu then asked for some custard,despite there being none on the menu??
This goes to show that there is no point in inviting disgruntled customers back for freebies,chances are if they haven't liked it the first time around,they're unlikely to enjoy a repeat performance.
Next time I'm going to follow Chefs recommended Modus Operandi:

'F**k off'
CLICK.

Where's my farking custard?

You know if you were going out for a special landmark birthday and there was a deal breaker item that  was absolutely non negotiable in terms of your enjoyment of the evening,something equatable to your last supper on death row? You'd kind of do everything in your power to make sure that the place you booked up for said meal actually had this item on the menu or at worst were prepared to get it in for you...wouldn't you?
Perhaps a dozen oysters accompanied by a glass of vintage 1976 Pol Roger might be your thing?Or maybe a Kobe beef fillet accompanied by a lovely Chateauneuf du Pape,or some Foie Gras and truffles and a glass of decent Burgundy or even a Salad Nicoise with a chilled glass of Provence Rose..
Or perhaps some CUSTARD.

Yes,you heard me.
CUSTARD.
This morning I was merrily going about my daily chores when I fielded a very irate call.The lady caller had dined with us the previous night.It was a birthday celebration,a bit of a landmark date,though as you know Im far too discreet to give away a lady's age.They were a bit of an unlikely group all fairly imposing characters wearing vertiginous heels, pelmet skirts and make up applied with a shotgun. There was only one man in the group,quite an affable chap though disconcertingly it had been duly noted wearing serial killer's shoes.Anyway,things were going swimmingly,until the pudding order was taken and the birthday girl expressed a desire for some custard with her chocolate cake.Sadly there was no custard on the menu and with checks aplenty on the board in the kitchen there was no chance of any off menu orders going in there on this particular occasion.
There was an unusual response to the rebuttal of the attempted custard order:
'Way cant yus gan doon to Tescos like and get us some Ambrosia?Thats what 'Spoons did last time wis went out for dinner??"
We nervously laughed off this suggestion as a joke at the time,and the lady begrudgingly settled for some of the on menu chocolate sauce,so all was well.
Or so we had thought.
Until todays phone call.
It seems she was bitterly disappointed, her barely contained anger audible over the phone line in her shaking tones.The upshot of the conversation being the lack of a custard sauce had 'ruined' her birthday but she hadn't wanted to make a fuss on the evening due to there being 15 other guests and it would have been embarrassing for them.I had my ear chewed for at least 15 minutes regarding the egg drought..
Apologising for our failure on the custard front,I took care to point out that items not on the menu are not normally available unless specifically requested in advance.Finally,against my better judgement and with one eye on the clock ticking ever onwards towards midday, in desperation I invited her back for a gratis lunch.
The anger miraculously tamed,the call was swiftly brought to a close.
The Cynical One was not amused.
'you are joking,tell me you didn't invite her back..'
'Yes I couldn't get her off the phone,the conversation wasn't going anywhere so I thought it easier just to comp her a lunch..'
The Cynical One wandered off to enjoy an interval of much disgusted head shaking and tutting.

Chef too was equally unimpressed,respectfully requesting that any future such complaint be dealt with in the following manner:

'F*ck off..'

CLICK.


The only comforting thought in all of this is that the inevitable Trip advisor drubbing is going to make pretty amusing reading.
*wrings hands in anticipation*

Look at me!! Im NUMERO UNO!!!!

Regular readers of this blog will be aware of my on/off relationship with a very well known internet review site.
Fickle and swarthy, the Blighter's cocked his flaming hoop in my direction way too often,cunningly leading me on with his diversionary complimentary tales,stroking my ego and gaining my confidence only to ditch me like the Monday leftovers at the Toby Carvery (who the feck eats Auntie Bessies on a weekday anyway??).
The Bounder.
Lately though, Ive been giving him the cold shoulder.
Plotting my revenge.
I hatched a plan.
To gain the upper hand.
To be NUMBER ONE.

I identified two ways to achieve this objective:

1.Never have a defamatory review(tricky,though not impossible)
2.Be the only pub in the village(bingo)

The fact of being grouped along with countless other outlets under the geographic restraints of nearby *small market town* posing a slight though not insurmountable hurdle.
A minor inconvenience.
Unbeknownst to Chef I contacted said on line review site pointing out our location in *out of town hamlet* asking them kindly to amend their records forthwith,this being both misleading and confusing to customers and surfers of on line review sites alike.
I was dubious as to the expected success of my ambitious assault but God LOVES a trier, so I sat back and basked in the joyous warmth of the half dozen complimentary reviews over the following two week period fully anticipating the vicious drubbing which would  invariably follow soon afterwards.
Perchance Sunday night, having a few spare moments and with Chef being otherwise engaged in usual Sunday night pokery with pals,I chanced a cursory glance at said site.
Would you believe it Dear Reader?
I was NUMERO UNO!!
NUMERO UNO of NUMERO UNO outlets in village.
I HAZ GAINED THE UPPER HAND.
Unable to contain my excitement and having shared the news with a brace of carefully chosen pals,and with much jollity ensuing, a couple of celebratory laps of the bar with m't shirt over my head were the order of the day.

Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!

Despite the disturbances, the pokery activity continuing, with the only indication of due notice being  taken in point of fact being a barely noticeable ironically raised Cheffy eyebrow.
Reader,I haven't had so much fun in ages,I was in possession of serious and prolonged giggling pain.
Its true...I'm easily pleased.
'I wish you'd act your age' said Chef without even looking up from his winning hand.


The following morning,in a cruel twist of fate and whilst firing up said review site to admire and check on ones top drawer status,it came to pass that we'd had yet another stinker of a review.

But hey its cool,because ...guess what?...Im still NUMERO UNO!!!

In your face Tw**advisor.

PS:Im thinking about setting up a TA optimisation advisory service,all enquiries via this blog please:)

Blind date

Recently,its come to my attention that increasingly couples seem to be getting together over the internet via on line dating sites.

Being a country pub a bit of the beaten track and with cosy corners a plenty we've often spotted first dates and illicit secret liaisons. It's always nice to invent an interesting story to bring these individuals to life.
Not long ago Will.i.am and Tina Turner dropped by to enjoy a surreptitious supper together.
One couple in particular that caught our imagination would always arrive in separate cars,spend a couple of touchy feeley hours in the corner then embrace passionately in the car park( always plenty of handy bottles to take out to the bins for occasions such as this), before speeding off in opposite directions.
The very well dressed woman was in her late forties with two grown up children,one a record producer in London and one (embarrassingly) a pastry crimper in a pie factory. She always paid for the drinks.Her husband,a successful merchant banker based in Hong Kong had become bored with her and spent increasingly long periods away from home with his second young family in Thailand.She remained married to him as she had become far too accustomed to her financial and social status to consider giving it up.She made regular trips to the capital, purportedly to visit her favoured son, but primarily to top up on the expensive Botox injections at the clinic on Harley Street where she'd bumped into the diminutive Lulu on more than one occasion.
It was on one of these trips that she'd fallen for her young gentleman.Their paths crossed on a chance meeting in a fashionable bacaro on Beak St.She skidded awkwardly on a stray olive which had lain unnoticed on the tiled floor and inadvertently detached one of the heels from her Louboutins.Her suitor had gallantly come to her aid with the handy tube of Unibond which he always kept about his person for precisely this sort of unexpected occasion.He was a talented musician, having trained at the Royal Academy of Music, but had fallen on hard times so was currently scraping a living working as a pianist in a brothel(no pun intended).
They were such an endearing couple.They visited us every Sunday night for 6 months,then intriguingly were never seen again.
I believe she cleared out the joint bank accounts which it was remiss of her absentee husband not to have closed and eloped with her lover to Israel to live on a Kibbutz,rescuing him from a fate far worse than a ten week run in the pit orchestra at the Palladium playing repetitive dance numbers in a Darren Day revue show(matinees and evenings).
He's currently blissfully happy compiling his own collection of Yusuf Islam style love songs inspired by their romance, which will be produced by her son and released at her own expense in November just in time to capitalise on the Christmas market..
Sigh...
Sadly, not all matches are as successful.
The other night I happened to notice a couple who looked slightly ill at ease.
Correction.
The woman looked ill at ease.
I positioned myself nearby to polish a bit of cutlery and to eavesdrop any interesting chit chat.If you want to do a bit of light earwigging, cutlery polishing is the perfect cover as you can clatter about periodically giving the impression to your victims that you are totally disinterested and not listening in to their conversation at all.They clearly didn't know each other well,it became apparent quite quickly that this was in fact their first meeting.The man was talking constantly,but not in the nervous manner of a person rambling on to fill any embarrassing silence.He was enjoying his chatter.He liked the sound of his own voice.
The Blonde approached the table to take the order,the woman asked for soup followed by the grilled salmon.A safe and informed order for a first date-no fiddly shellfish,pasta slurping or finger licking to contend with.
In an act which I can only assume was an ill founded attempt to prove their innate compatibility her  date immediately duplicated the order exactly.
Thats got to piss you off BIG STYLE.
For a start a woman wants a man who knows his own mind and isn't going to fall in exactly with her decisions otherwise she's going to get bored very quickly indeed.I recommend a nice cut of rare beef as a first date option,ideally steer clear of anything which might be deemed a girly choice i.e. SALMON.If you happen to like salmon or any other fish-save it for the second date after you've made that all important first impression.Remember,first impressions COUNT.Secondly,four plates of identical food knocks any diversionary sampling of the other persons food on the head straightaway,and disposes of any safety net conversation talking points i.e. 'how is your meal?'
Yup pretty self explanatory isn't it-you can't really enquire how a meal is when you're troughing on an identical plate of nosh can you?
He rattled on throughout the starter and to the delivery of the main course.His date,who had her back to me barely uttering a word other than the odd 'mmhm'  'mhmmm'.He was showing her photographs on his i-phone with a running commentary on where and with whom they were taken.
'This is me and my son on holiday in Benidorm last year.I mean..how many fathers take their sons on holiday on their own??'
This is all wrong.
Its ok to tell her you took your son on holiday,hopefully she will go home thinking what a great fellow you are taking your young son on holiday on your own.Perhaps you planned to tell her this hoping she would come to this very conclusion.But the fact that you pointed out to her that you are an all round good egg totally negates any positive effects.
There were photos of him in his schooldays, then further holiday snaps of the previous years excursion to Paphos accompanied by similar cringeworthy comments noting the sons apparent startling resemblance to his father:
'Look at that,thats just me isn't it??'
His face was vaguely familiar,I was wondering where Id seen him before,just then I realised as he flashed a Care Bear smile after each smug comment.

Im lovely aren't I?

For farks sake you've only just met her.Ask her something about herself,has SHE any family??Engage her in a bit of conversation please...
At this point I overheard him say'I wonder where the Gents is'
Quick as a flash and in the first piece of conversation I'd heard her make,she turned around to address me and said with some urgency 'can you tell me where the Gents is please?'
I considered offering to distract him whilst she did a runner-perhaps she could have an urgent phone call from home..but before I'd had the chance to intervene, she was up on her feet at the bar ordering a LARGE Pinot Grigio which she promptly necked in one and was back safely in her seat by the time he'd returned from the netty.
She must have decided to front things out and get a lift home,but I was betting there was going to be no invite in for coffee and Hob Nobs after this performance.
The final nail in his coffin came with the classic:
'This is me.....when I had hair...'
Dear God.Surely everyone knows that drawing attention to your own hirsutability is unlikely to get you a second bite at the cherry.
I silently applauded her response:
'OH really?? It looks nothing like you...'
Personally, I'd sue match dot com.
*implodes*

How was your Mothers Day?

We've had a mostly uneventful week.
Encouragingly most customers have been beautifully behaved,save for the odd menu misunderstanding(more later).
Its been a week notable most for the inordinate volume of phone calls seeking tables for Mothers Day.I kid you not the phone has rung incessantly,even up to the eleventh hour on Sunday morning with the final male callers dispensing with the usual social niceties and simply uttering 'Ive left it too late haven't I?',their despondency acutely tangible even over the telephone line.
Chef wondered if there was some way of vetting prospective customers in order to allocate tables depending on prospective spend per head.You see, as with other special events Mothering Sunday is all a bit of a lottery as to whether or not you manage to book in the 'right' customers.As you know,Im not a snob but Mothers Day as with other special events brings out the diners who don't normally eat out and aren't fully au fait with the formal etiquette.If you're unlucky you'll have allocated all your tables to amateur diners who eat out but a couple of times per year-to them  a main course and soft drink with 'extra Yorkies please' is pushing the proverbial gravy boat out..

We decided to get the window boxes revamped in time for Mothers Day so the place was looking all spring like and chipper.The canny chap from the Garden centre in question cleverly suggested we provide a complimentary plant for each of the Mums on Mothers day-along with a little half price voucher for them to hopefully visit the garden centre later and encourage some further spin off sales.Its always a good plan to support other local like minded independent businesses and everyone likes a bit of Gratis so obviously I jumped at the chance.
Chef had a glut of short ribs and spent the main part of the week adding to his repertoire of '100 ways with short ribs' in increasingly inventive fashion.In addition we happened to have an unusual porter with cherry overtones on the bar,at 6.2 percent not for the faint hearted(or those careering around the countryside off public transport routes), and not going down as well as we'd hoped despite my own efforts in drinking the odd wine glass full after service.The porter found its way into (amongst other things) a particularly delightful chocolate cake(ooh it tastes like a Blackforest gateau...).
The final Coup de Gras for both the short ribs and the porter was the production of the 'beef short rib terrine' flavoured with shallots which had been sweated down with the potent ale into a sticky concentrated mass.In a double whammy served with a shot of the offending liquor,the item flew out on the Saturday night and with only a few portions remaining for Mothers Day,Chef was well pleased with himself.

Two items shifted for the price of one.

Unfortunately,Chef didn't account for the inexperienced diners that rocked up in droves on Mothering Sunday.
First up 'Can you tell me what Chateau Rie is please?'
Trying desperately to rearrange my facial features so as not to display my utter confusion I floundered momentarily,the whole wine list flashing afore me minds eye but nothing remotely resembling the elusive Chateau Rie coming to mind.
'Im sorry-can you repeat that??'
'Chateau Rie-the third item down on the starter board.'
Gulp.
CHARCUTERIE.
Recovering composure,I continued:
'Ah that's Charcuterie-served with pickles and bread(and a sneaky bit of the aforementioned short rib terrine but we wont mention that..)
'What is Charcuterie?'
Sharp intake of breath.
'Cold meats,pickles bread-its very tasty..'
Result they ordered it.

With further orders coming on for the terrine and one eye on the profits,Chef was feeling ever so slightly smug and pleased that we'd managed to attract more than single course diners..
All was going swimmingly well until Sunday Girl burst into the kitchen head in hands,bent over double and making a weird groaning noise.I wasn't sure if she was in pain,crying or laughing.
'Biff.. I think you need to write on the board that the terrine comes 'with a glass of Dark ale''
'Why? what's happened???'
'I've just had to stop someone from pouring the shot of ale over THE TOP OF THE TERRINE AS IF IT WAS SOME KIND OF GRAVY..'
'WHAT?Are you joking??'
'No I heard her say 'I wonder what this is' then just as I was going over she was just pouring it out...it was awful.. sob'
Chef looked over in disgust.
'Dear God,what the Rowan Atkinson in a Mr Bean outfit is that all about..??'

There was a further minor glitch when someone asked what anchovy and caper butter was.
'Erm..its a butter flavoured with anchovies and capers'
I was unprepared for the response which left me an uncharacteristically gibbering mess.
'WHAT ARE ANCHOVIES AND CAPERS?'
I excused myself and returned to the kitchen to slit my wrists.

Gratis blooms

The complimentary bouquets were going down a treat,one even smoothing over the disgruntled woman  and potential future Tripadvisor assailant, with the alledgedly burnt Yorkie which had 'spoilt her dinner'.Though obviously there was no evidence to support this claim due to the offending charred Yorkie having been consumed in its sorry entirety.

Theres always one who has to spoil things though isn't there?

We'd placed the little 'Happy Mothers Day half price vouchers' out on all the tables prior to seating guests,the plan being that when diners requested their bills the Gratis plants to be presented to the Mothers at the optimum moment just prior to the eagerly anticipated tip allocation.
At this particular table The Stony Faced Daughter raised her hand just as the gift was about to be presented with a flourish to her overjoyed and aged Mother.
'Just hold on a minute there...Is the plant half price? Are we paying for that ??'

It appeared she'd read the little voucher and presumed we were flogging the plants to all the Mothers in a brazen attempt to impersonate the old geezer with the flower basket that used to trawl round all the toon bars touting overpriced and past their sell by dates flowers to everyone who was bladdered and hoping to get lucky..
To add insult to injury, rumour has it that this particular individual achieved a not insignificant win on the lotto recently.
If that were me,Dear Reader,I'd be be smiling and spending.Permanently.


So finally, I leave you with the thought that a Mother is for all year round-not just for Mothers Day.So why not take her out a bit more often and preferably spread yourselves throughout the year?
Thankyou:)

10 things which give me the idea you aren't going to like this place..

1.Ask for the 'printed menu' not the blackboard specials.
You know the secret menu that we keep for special customers and don't show anyone else as we don't want to sell anything from it.

2.Fling all your coats at me and watch on horrified as I drape them artfully over the backs of your chairs.
What?You expect me to employ a cloakroom attendant at these prices??

3.Request a table away from any doors/walkways/the bar/kitchen.
What you want is a private dining room, not a wonky table in a pub.

4.Tell me to respect the wine and let it breathe for at least 15 mins before pouring,then feel the bottle and place it on top of a nearby radiator,whilst tutting, accompanied by a knowing shake of the head.
Its a Chilean merlot for farks sake.

5.Talk loudly about all the 'fyne dyning' restaurants you've visited over the years,name dropping as many as possible.
Sorry 'fraid we don't have a special miniature table to accommodate your handbag..

7.Begin a sentence with 'Im surprised you don't..' and complete with a reference to the lack of a particular item,erstwhile smiling sweetly.
This may relate to the lack of a linen tablecloth,napkin,condiment,obscure liquer you enjoyed whilst on a recent sabbatical in the Dolomites or even a bloody After Eight Mint.

8.Ask me in a haughty voice to tell you about a self explanatory menu item e.g: 'Talk to me about the leek and potato soup'

Will this do?The potatoes were lovingly hand picked by Irish virgins,cooked slowly over an open flame until tender, their white flesh smooth and pillowy,leeks hand raised,nourished daily with organic beer and picked at the optimum moment of freshness..

 Its a fecking leek and potato soup-if you want you can have it in a bowl with a spoon to eat it with...

9.Tell me you haven't been before(despite having lived in the immediate hinterland for 20 years) but came because your friends insisted you try us,then repeatedly mention and compare us to a nearby place that you love that 'never gets it wrong'..

What friends?you came to prove you knew more than they did, didn't you?

10.Launch into an extended diatribe about the time that you visited The Hinds Head and they 'got it wrong'
You might as well give up now- you're on a hiding to hell with this lot.....

Sigh.

This may upset minority groups.

NB:I like children,I have a few of my own.
Ive been noticing lately that people are becoming very intolerant.

We seem to have had an influx of militant mothers.Mothers who expect the same facilities within a pub environment as would be enjoyed at Jungle Jacks Wacky world of fun..

Increasingly parents are bringing oversized pushchairs into the pub expecting there to be adequate parking spots beside the table.Last Sunday a group arrived with several small children.One of whom was in a mahoosive pushchair with inflatable wheels.In the light of recent issues with similar contraptions Id already briefed the staff to tell people that we welcome children but don't have space for pushchairs.This was explained but the couple were particularly determined saying the child was sleeping and taking the carrier off the wheels would wake him(God Forbid).The pushchair was wheeled up one set of steps,through a very busy bar then down another to access the table.The gent on the adjacent table was eating his dinner and had to stand up so that the complicated three point turn parking manoeuvre could be achieved.I'll be surprised if he wasn't annoyed effectively blocked in his own private parking space behind the table.

Im sure this will fit.

A couple of minutes later news filtered back to the kitchen that the older children were playing on games consoles with the music on a high volume.I went out to assess the situation on pretext of fetching a bottle of red.Parent or not,nobody wants to sit eating their Sunday lunch with a background riff of 'Old Macdonald had a farm' playing on a continuous loop.Its a sorry state of affairs when a 23 year old student has to tell a 'responsible' parent that the music might in fact not be to the taste of the other diners.'If they want to bring their electronic child minders with them at least have the decency to fit them with farking headphones' said Chef intuitively.
Shockingly,we don't have a baby change facility within our loos.This isn't because we want to discourage families,its because there is no space in the toilet to install one.Lately this seems to be a major problem.When we explain the non existence of this facility,some mothers look at you with disgust and on one occasion a mother actually said to me 'you are joking aren't you?' then in an act of obvious protestation proceeded the change her baby on the floor of the dining room with other people around her troughing on their roast dinners..and don't think this is a one off.It may surprise you to hear that we've had soiled nappies tied up in bags and left under tables also.

Similarly our disabled facilities aren't good.Actually they are poor to non existent,but given that the building is on the side of a hill with steep steps down from the car park and all areas on different levels,theres not a lot we can do about it other than demolish.Often people ring ahead and ask about wheelchair accessibility.We have to tell them that access is difficult but possible for anyone determined enough to try.With four steps down into the ladies loo you ight want to limit your liquid intake though..Some people approach this as a challenge,so surprisingly we often welcome visitors in wheelchairs.
Last week a couple came for lunch,the chap in a wheelchair.Unaided he got his chair up into the raised dining area but as it happened the table was too low for him to get his legs comfortably underneath.They decided to sit at a bar table next to the fire.There was an almighty thud as the wheelchair descended the step back down to the bar at a much higher speed than he intended.The front wheels of the chair were wedged firmly against the bar with the back wheels tightly up against the step.He shuffled in the seat,then looked over at his girlfriend."Im stuck' he said.I was behind the bar effectively stuck also with no means of exit other then over the bar top,which was thankfully an option. The Cynical One looked over at me with her 'what shall i do face'.I glanced at the girlfriend,she nodded encouragingly and sat calmly allowing him the chance to extricate himself.I was superglued to the spot not sure what to do.I asked him if he wanted any help.'No' (much shuffling) 'if I can just manage to get a grip'..The bar shuddered as the weight of the chair was forced back and forth in a effort to free the wheels.Eventually he managed to flip the front wheels up and get some purchase on the back,freeing himself. 'Im out!' he shouted triumphantly over to the girlfriend who beamed back at him, then at me.The Cynical One( in direct contravention of her name and repuation) was nearly in tears.

So I was thinking about able bodied people and how they expect every need to be catered for on their own terms with the onus on other people(ie us) to take responsibility for them and yet others who face massive challenges every day can approach the whole thing with refreshing optimism,taking responsibility for and mostly sorting themselves out.
Some disabilities however,aren't immediately obvious.I recently employed someone with OCD. Ive joked on occasion that I have OCD as Im quite manic about hygiene and people breathing on edibles,but actual OCD is an altogether different  challenge and one I don't really understand fully.
I wasn't aware that this lad had the condition,but it became obvious fairly quickly.Its very inhibiting,even debilitating when every action you take is governed by rules and order.For example a fresh task cant be started until another is fully completed. Flexibility and prioritisation are not in the vocabulary of the average OCD sufferer.Just imagine you're restocking the fridge or polishing a tray of glasses and a customer walks in to the bar expecting a drink and you'll probably get the picture.
Sadly they won't.
Frustratingly,this particular individuals' OCD also manifests itself in the unusual act of repeating back instructions or information three times.So a simple sentence can be a long and excruciatingly drawn out exchange.
Heres an example:
'Can you clear table 3 please'
'You want me to clear table 3?'
'Yes table 3'
'You want me to clear table 3 now?'
'Yes clear table 3 now'(or sometimes i might cut short the repeat by saying at this point 'Its ok I'll do it', which pleasingly confuses the hell out of him..'
'Ok ill clear table 3 now then'
As you can see this can be at best inconvenient and worst damned annoying.Last Saturday this unfortunate routine wreaked havoc.
I was over by the bar and noticed an altercation kicking off next to the till.A diner was quite clearly irate and having a go at OCD lad.I dashed over.
'CAN YOU TELL ME IS IT PROTOCOL IN THIS PLACE TO BRING OVER A BILL BEFORE THE CUSTOMER HAS ASKED FOR IT?'
'No its not' I say, 'Im sorry that happened..its not protocol to do that'
Then addressing the lad in question:
'Did you not see my niece was in floods of tears when you approached the table to give me the bill?'
Well.You can imagine what happened next.
He repeated the statement back to the guy who then repeated back in the style of the above example.
HE MADE HIM REPEAT THE STATEMENT THREE TIMES with each repeat giving further weight and distress to the fact that the niece was crying.
When the third and final repetition was completed and closure achieved,OCD boy let out an involuntary nervous giggle of satisfaction.
At which point the situation escalated,the diner giving full vent to his fury: 'and now you're laughing at me...you didn't even speak to us when we came in you didn't even lift your head just kept on pouring those drinks at the bar and ignored us'
I intervened.'Look Im really sorry this has happened,but there was no intent to upset you, I apologise for the service today which has clearly been unacceptable'
The chap stormed off back to the table.He was fizzing,I followed him and apologised again.I even tried to butter him up with a free meal,which he didn't take up.

Much later I asked why the bill had been taken over when it hadn't been requested.
'Well I saw him get his wallet out of his pocket'
'You saw him get his wallet out of his pocket?'
'Yes I saw him get his wallet out so I presumed he wanted the bill'
'You saw him get his wallet out so you presumed he wanted the bill????'
'Yes he got his wallet out so I got the bill ready and took it over'(volume increasing)

'Its annoying isn't it?'
'What is"
'When someone makes you repeat back information that you've clearly already heard'
'Well...yes I suppose it is'
'Can you stop doing it'
'Can I stop doing it?"

Deafening silence and an ever so slowly and ironically raised eyebrow.

'C.....Ill try'
'Good'