Hewlett saved the UK's culinary reputation tonight.
Discussion
I trundled down to the bar of my hotel this evening to see if there were plans afoot for dinner.
"Yes!", I am told. Our Dutch colleagues ate in a very nice, typical pub this lunchtime, and they've recommended we go back there for dinner.
OK. Not sure where out Dutch colleagues have managed to find a nice, typical pub within walking distance of Bracknell railway station, but in the interests of international diplomacy, I'll keep an open mind, so we bundled into my car and one other, and off we went.
This leads to me driving down the A322 back into Bracknell with a Spaniard, two Dutch guys and 4 Belgians when one of the Dutch guys shouts out "there it is!"
A Harvester. A. f
king. HARVESTER!
Thankfully, the Belgians don't trust the Dutch anyway, and I'd already got the Spaniard onside, so my point blank refusal to go any further than the carpark didn't fall on deaf ears, so we've just got back from a bloody good curry at the Mogul in Bagshot as recommended by Hewlett.
The moral of the story is clear. Never trust a Dutchman to recommend somewhere to eat!
I shudder to think what the others would've thought of English food if I hadn't been there to mime the act of vomiting to them whilst pointing at the Harvester and crossing myself ferociously.
"Yes!", I am told. Our Dutch colleagues ate in a very nice, typical pub this lunchtime, and they've recommended we go back there for dinner.
OK. Not sure where out Dutch colleagues have managed to find a nice, typical pub within walking distance of Bracknell railway station, but in the interests of international diplomacy, I'll keep an open mind, so we bundled into my car and one other, and off we went.
This leads to me driving down the A322 back into Bracknell with a Spaniard, two Dutch guys and 4 Belgians when one of the Dutch guys shouts out "there it is!"
A Harvester. A. f
king. HARVESTER!Thankfully, the Belgians don't trust the Dutch anyway, and I'd already got the Spaniard onside, so my point blank refusal to go any further than the carpark didn't fall on deaf ears, so we've just got back from a bloody good curry at the Mogul in Bagshot as recommended by Hewlett.
The moral of the story is clear. Never trust a Dutchman to recommend somewhere to eat!
I shudder to think what the others would've thought of English food if I hadn't been there to mime the act of vomiting to them whilst pointing at the Harvester and crossing myself ferociously.
Foreigners in general can view our cuisine through natty rose tinted specs. I work with Francisco, a portly Spanish geezer who lives in Madrid and works in Oxford several days a month. He hates all food Spanish and gorges on pies, fish and chips, black pudding, fried breakfasts whenever he's here, he says that ''zees Engl-ish knows ow to coook'', to be fair he is in the minority, all the other Spaniards we work with see our food as part of the challenge of being away from home and probably fast whilst they are here, cram tapas down them the minute they touch down at Madridi Internationalio Aeporto (never been, I assume it's called this).
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