Short Breaks and British Caterers

At the moment we don’t take long holidays, although we should. It can get a bit exhausting surrounded by 100 or more jobs waiting to be started, or in my case, to be finished. The absence of new blogs for a while is explained by the fact we took a short break to Somerset and North Devon.

Experiencing British vacation catering can be very amusing. Among our gems of messed up orders so far this season are, ‘No onions please’, we got onions, ‘Soup of the Day and Roll please’ no bread at all, ‘a salad sandwich please’, ditto. The last two in spite nearby bakers’ window bulging with perfectly good bread. Is all this just code for, ‘We can’t be bothered really’, or, ‘we are bored and will generally mess you about.’.

The trouble is that if you want a quiet time of rest and refreshment you are out of luck.. Take for example our wish for a late breakfast. Firstly, the promoted breakfast ‘special’ on the notice outside, which included fried bread was not on the menu at the table. The waitress insisted that we had to pay an extra 60p if we wanted fried bread even though all the other components were exactly the same. Reluctantly we ordered the extra, although in my case I substituted toast, also 60p. However, it still rankled and puzzled me so I asked for the menu to be explained by the proprietor who had just finished her fag break at one of the two outside tables. We eventually moved there as the restaurant itself was already above 25 c, possibly due to the fact that the old conservatory frontage had no roof lights and even if the rotary fan near its peak was working, it would only have delivered more hot air downwards.

. Apparently it was because it was a new menu and we would not be charged the extra 60p for the fried bread. I held my peace re the toast and looked forward to the bill. I was not disappointed. The meal as stated on the menu was charged the same as the special offer plus the cost of the toast, which had now become an extra £1 not the 60p! Again, the proprietor was approached and it was a mistake. I cut a lengthy explanation short by saying that with the two special breakfasts plus the coffees I was prepared to pay £13.80 and no more and proffered a £20 note. This was accepted and the waitress got my change from the till. It was a pound short! Needless to say my protests led to a correction. I wished the proprietor a good summer and left. These errors could not be put down to the level of custom. There were only two other customers when we turned up so the mistakes were not due to them being busy. We should have seen what was coming because a mistake over their bill was being sorted as we walked in.

Our final experience of British hospitality was to visit a rather posh hotel on Exmoor. Two elderly ladies who had booked a table, after deliberating over the blackboard specials, were warned as they went to place their order, that a table of fifteen had arrived un-announced and had now ordered. Consequently whatever they ordered would take some time. Since they were worried about eating late, they left. When I asked for a dish of olives and some bread this was also impossible. The place looked pretty quiet for 7.45 pm on a Sunday when food was only served until 8.30 pm. What was the point of booking? Come to that, what is the point of some of these so called ‘hospitality’ preofessionals? Our best meals were at a seafront chippy and a tapas bar, so it was not all bad news.
Dacier