Today we were driving along the A3, returning from dropping Sophie and Tom at Weybridge, and Mirinda suddenly interrupted her interesting discussion about Innovation in the Workplace, with the suggestion that we should have lunch out. I shook my head and reminded her that I had quite bit of cooking to do before going to bed given I was catering for her Management Meeting tomorrow.
And so we continued on towards Farnham. Then, idiot I am, I decided that lunch in some country pub with my wife would be ideal and so changed my earlier decision and we headed off for East Horsley. It was at this point that the day started heading in the wrong direction.
It had all started off perfectly. The weather was glorious so we chose to walk into Farnham with our guests and the girls so I could shop and they could wander around…or just sit in Starbucks which they ended up doing so Tom could take a few hours to eat a very small bagel.
I’d hoped that either Chantelle or Victoria would be working so they could see the girls but, sadly for them, they weren’t. Sue however was and she gave them a big cup of cream which Emma sniffed at and ignored and Freya gobbled down quicker than if it had been squirted out of the can. I seriously think if she knew how to squirt the can, she’d go for the straight to the mouth option.
After shopping I re-joined them and, eventually (it really shouldn’t take a day to eat a bagel) we headed home. There was a brief stop in Castle Street when Emma decided to embarrass everyone with a big poo on the path but otherwise, it was a lovely walk home.
Back at the house there was a mad dash to make sure nothing was left of the visit before we all piled into Max for the drive across the M25.
We weren’t that impressed with Weybridge. There’s an awful lot of gated communities which give the place the appearance of a lot of open air prisons with a few trees dotted through them. It’s all just a bit too isolationist for us.
Moving right on along…we headed off the A3 into deepest, darkest Surrey, straight to the Duke of Wellington and disappointment. The car-park was completely full. We drove down to the small group of shops just beyond the church and parked there before walking back to the pub.
“Sorry, darling, we’re full,” answered the 25ish waitress when I asked if they had a table for two free. It was the second time that a female at least half my age had called me darling since I entered the pub. It’s not that I mind, it’s just a bit odd. It’s usually older women who call me darling with any regularity; young women usually just run away in fear and a cloud of uncertain laughter.
We slowly walked back to Max stopping off at a small cafe called Goose on the way. Having agreed on a table (there were only about eight) we were then told that they had sold out of all their food and only had compote left. The young guy explained, very apologetically, that it was their first Sunday and they didn’t know quantiites but would do a lot better next week.
As we thanked him and left, a group of older people sat dividing their bill into seven parts depending on what they ate and the amount of calories in it. I felt very sorry for the waiter.
We then decided to head for Odiham to the place that used to be called Next Door at the George but is now called The Red Lion. The benefit of this was that if they were full we could always go next door to Bel and the Dragon or across the road to the Italian restaurant that is where St Johns used to be.
The place that used to be called Next Door at the George but is now called The Red Lion was full to bursting though, helpfully we were offered a table in 20 minutes but when we tried to sit at the bar and have a drink it wasn’t obvious that we could actually sit anywhere. We went next door.
There was no problem with Bel and Dragon and we were soon comfortably sat with our food, enjoying it as much as we normally do.
Oddly, everywhere we went today we would first ask if they had a table for two to which the answer was always “Have you booked?” which is rather strange. If we had booked we’d start our conversation with “We have a booking for two in the name of…” so it’s a bit odd. And it’s not just today. When thinking about it, I realised this happens everywhere. All round the world. Weird.
Having eaten more than sufficient, we headed back to Max, stopping off at a second hand store with the intention of buying a metal mannequin only the shop didn’t take cards and all the cash machines in the town had been either ram raided or removed. They didn’t make a sale and we saved £40.
Finally back home (at 5pm) I started the long, laborious task of preparing food for tomorrow’s Management Meeting. I made:
- Gus in sleeping bags
- Eggy, cheesy, muffs (4 in filo, 4 in bacon)
- Aubergine rolls
- Stuffed peppers
- Quiche in a deesh
- Cheddar and feta frittata
- And, to finish, Frozen raspberry yoghurt and pistachio
I finished at about midnight and eventually fell into bed at half past. I only had myself to blame…but we did have a lovely afternoon driving around looking for sustenance.