I've started so I'll finish
(FLAT UPDATE: Insurance company has agreed to pay up for shoes - minus ten per cent wear and tear - but seem reluctant to actually give us the money. Company responsible for drying out floor and walls has decided that our bathroom floor needs to be ripped out, and probably all the bathroom facilities. So that's nice.)
Cross Plateau off your list of potential dining places – it’s all style and no substance.
We went up there on Friday night to book a table for Saturday and it took the two dimwits behind the desk about 20 mins to take our details – probably because they felt they needed to explain what ravioli was when we asked what the vegetarian option was.
On Saturday, we arrived and sat at the lush bar sipping cocktails; god strike me down if it isn’t true but there was a fly in my drink! The bar tender thought it might be a piece off the fresh pineapple, but it was actually a dead fly.
An enquiry from the Sampsoness later for a glass of fresh juice revealed they only have carton orange, cranberry and, surprise, surprise, pineapple.
Sipping the replacement, I noticed there was no table-for-six in the room. I spoke to the receptionist, who, during her 20 minutes the previous night managed to have booked us into the wrong room.
A stiff conversation with the maitre de later, and we were accommodated by the window in the bar/grill, as requested.
Food was quite nice, even though the wrong dish was brought out for one of the party’s starter. I was quizzed as to whether I was drinking still.
I looked at my untouched glass of wine and thought: ‘I haven’t really started!” but it turned out, the waitress was asking me if I was drinking still water but she left off that vital clue to the meaning of her question.
All that bumbling inefficiency did, however, lead to one good thing – they forgot to charge us for the drinks we had at the bar, and we forgot to tell them. Yeah, sorry about that Terence.
During the day on Saturday and Sunday, The Other Half and I took the boat up to Springfield and then on to Enfield dock.
Going round the Isle of Dogs at 7.45am against the tide was actually the best way to do the Thames. We had a lovely smooth ride, river all to ourselves apart from the boats from Poplar Rowing Club. A weak sun came out and kept us warm. Good old Ganges didn’t rock at all.
The second leg of the trip on Sunday, The Parents In-Law came too so we had a lovely day pootling up to Enfield.
I was thinking Ganges might have to go but, really, I can’t sell her. I love that boat more than anything (apart from TOH, obviously).
Sunday night’s TV was one in the eye for Daily Hate Mail readers: an Asian teenage girl won Britain’s Best Speller comp, and a Black barrister won Mastermind. Hopefully, that will shut up the idiots who buy that litter tray liner!
Cross Plateau off your list of potential dining places – it’s all style and no substance.
We went up there on Friday night to book a table for Saturday and it took the two dimwits behind the desk about 20 mins to take our details – probably because they felt they needed to explain what ravioli was when we asked what the vegetarian option was.
On Saturday, we arrived and sat at the lush bar sipping cocktails; god strike me down if it isn’t true but there was a fly in my drink! The bar tender thought it might be a piece off the fresh pineapple, but it was actually a dead fly.
An enquiry from the Sampsoness later for a glass of fresh juice revealed they only have carton orange, cranberry and, surprise, surprise, pineapple.
Sipping the replacement, I noticed there was no table-for-six in the room. I spoke to the receptionist, who, during her 20 minutes the previous night managed to have booked us into the wrong room.
A stiff conversation with the maitre de later, and we were accommodated by the window in the bar/grill, as requested.
Food was quite nice, even though the wrong dish was brought out for one of the party’s starter. I was quizzed as to whether I was drinking still.
I looked at my untouched glass of wine and thought: ‘I haven’t really started!” but it turned out, the waitress was asking me if I was drinking still water but she left off that vital clue to the meaning of her question.
All that bumbling inefficiency did, however, lead to one good thing – they forgot to charge us for the drinks we had at the bar, and we forgot to tell them. Yeah, sorry about that Terence.
During the day on Saturday and Sunday, The Other Half and I took the boat up to Springfield and then on to Enfield dock.
Going round the Isle of Dogs at 7.45am against the tide was actually the best way to do the Thames. We had a lovely smooth ride, river all to ourselves apart from the boats from Poplar Rowing Club. A weak sun came out and kept us warm. Good old Ganges didn’t rock at all.
The second leg of the trip on Sunday, The Parents In-Law came too so we had a lovely day pootling up to Enfield.
I was thinking Ganges might have to go but, really, I can’t sell her. I love that boat more than anything (apart from TOH, obviously).
Sunday night’s TV was one in the eye for Daily Hate Mail readers: an Asian teenage girl won Britain’s Best Speller comp, and a Black barrister won Mastermind. Hopefully, that will shut up the idiots who buy that litter tray liner!
posted by The WyeBird @ 5:31 pm
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