Lunch with my Dad yesterday
My dear father focused on looking at his grandson while I recorded him for posterity – or five minutes of fame on my blog. He treated us to a very nice lunch at a rather strange establishment that seemed to be desperately trying to be several different kinds of businesses at once. It was a pub-hotel-restaurant-delicatessan-duck and chicken farm, in a desolate location near a flyover. As we could see the poultry happily scratching away in the back garden, we thought it would be a good place to stock up on eggs, dry-cured bacon and home-made black pudding for our evening meal. And very good they were too.