So James and Nads et al are in traffic and we need to eat. What follows is an unsolicited testimonial for the Eagle bar which is not inconveniently situated on the other side of the hotel carpark....(so a short drive for most residents here) I am hungry, Martin has snacked on that Jamie Oliver favourite pan fried popcorn embellished chicken (you'll do well to get a post without it being mentioned) that he has refreshed in the microwave, and Janet is looking for something light. So we are looking for a helium restaurant or diner!!
Next door seems to fit the bill... it is reasonably priced hohoho. so Janet and Martin order salads (served with ham and cheese) I have pushed the boat out... going for seafood more hohoho,and ordered scrod and chips. Scrod is a local word for freshly caught whitefish of the day.Our waitress explains that the salads are large, and they do indeed come on the 12" plate that she described. This is probably the plates smallest dimension so as not to challenge the tough trade description laws out here, and itwas certainly exceeded vertically, and that prior to putting the protein on top of the salad. (I suspect American slugs and snails suffere from vertigo, as we didnt find any). Janet dutifully works her way in towards the centre, (or center for those reading in their native tongue,) Whilst Martin follows the "eat your meat" policy that was drummed in to him from birth. Both of them falter to a conclusive defeat.
The Scrod is a strange fish. not only can it climb huge mountains of chips (Fries to our locals), and it certainly did appear to be battered after its ordeal, but they are a lonely species, and not happy in their own company. So for Scrod read scrod squared. It is a time to Man up and remind our hosts which side of the atlantic they originated on and the scrod are defeated.
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