On account of being bloody ancient and finally admitting she's decrepit, Bristol Brenda wanted to check out a bungalow she'd seen advertised. It was something to do for a couple of hours and meant we could natter in the car; on the journey. We headed to CLUTTON. The bungalow was OK-ish; food for thought, we thought. Now it was time to enjoy a late pub lunch; food for dorks, as all the pubs had stopped serving lunches. Well it was about 3.00pm! Eventually we bumbled across a TOBY CARVERY. In we drove - happy day.
Apart from 2 tables of ashen, cadaverous customers, the place was empty, but we had to WAIT TO BE SEATED!
The waitress asked if we'd like to order our drinks.
"Not yet, thanks," said Brenda.
"Yes. If I could just take your drinks order," said the girl, fluttering her note pad.
"Oh, um, well I don't know. What do you want Missy?" Asked Brenda.
"Oh I don't know, I'm peckish. What's on the menu?" Said I.
"I need to take your drinks order, if you wouldn't mind," She repeated.
"We'd like a moment to get our breath back. Would you mind giving us a moment?" Brenda panted.
"I need to take your drinks order now, because I'm going out for 5 minutes and you'll have to wait for me to come back," The waitress said decisively.
We placed our drinks order.
Things spiral down hill after this.
With drinks in place - a SPRITE for Brenda, because they had no 7up and a cup of ordinary tea for me because they had no Earl Grey - we studied the menu.
Nothing to eat????
We called the girl over, as I fished out the teabag from the mug of tepid water (presentation is nothing here) and queried the menu. Were we missing something?
"Have you seen our range of starters?" She asked us.
Blank looks in return. She removed the menu from my hands and turned it over; pictures of desserts. "This is the desserts side," I said. She pointed to a few lines above the temptingly sweet treats. "Ahhh, starters," I said, "Thank you." And wondered why they've listed the starters between the main course and the desserts.
Truth is there wasn't much on this list either. You have to bear in mind that all we wanted was a snack and I'm a veggy. We called her over again and explained that we fancied a snack of some kind.
"This is a carvery madam," she said to me.
"A what?" Said Brenda.
"A carvery," I said a bit louder, all the better for her to hear me. She looked puzzled, mostly, I think for effect, so I went along with her. "You know, a buffet," I added.
"It's a carvery, not a buffet," said the waitress. I said my 'buffet' bit again and she said her 'carvery' bit again. We went around this loop for about 4 times, until I said, "What's the difference then?" That put a stop to it.
SWEET.
The waitress turned the conversation on a sixpence, "If you want a snack you should be in the bar."
"What? You sat us here. Are you saying we have to sit somewhere else?"
She actually looked non-plussed. "What if we get there and don't like anything on the menu, we'll have to come back here?" I said. Brenda was doubled up with laughter, or perhaps it was hunger. "Could you bring us a bar menu?" The waitress looked confused, Brenda snorted a stifled laugh.
"I don't know."Said our waitress, as she looked around for inspiration.
"Come on," Said Brenda, "The place is almost empty. And besides You can see I have trouble walking." she tapped the handle of her walking stick. "Come on, bring us a bar menu."
And off went our girl, hot foot to the bar, a whole 3 or 4 metres away.
We ordered. The food arrived and was fine. EXCEPT...... the bread was stale and the butter was marge.
"Go on, get her back over." Whispered Brenda with a smirk. And I did.
According to 'her' the bread was crusty - well that's one way of putting it - and the the marge was swapped for the advertised butter without question. Sadly the butter was so hard that Brenda couldn't spread it. It sat in pea sized lumps on the surface of her dry bread; nice.
It has to be said that she was the most long suffering waitress ever, and we were the most long suffering customers.
FUN THOUGH
