Painful. It’s the only way I can describe it. The table is seated for 8 o’ clock. You only get to place an order at 9 o’ clock (and only a main course mind you). After 3 hours of pitiful, teeth-grindingly bad service (all for that one main course) it was simply too much to bear. And it compelled me to write these words. Now, stop me if I’m wrong but this is not the way it’s meant to happen. I always like to think that going out for dinner is a stab at enjoying yourself of an evening. I know it’s not a God given right but you do have some entitlement to a certain level of attention when dining outside the confines of your own home. Well, you won’t get it if you eat here. Not without asking first anyway. Picture this: one member of staff taking an order (eventually); another member of staff disputing everything you say when chasing the original order (tectonic plates move faster than these guys). And, repeat. Ad nauseum. “We ordered some cheese and I wondered if it was on its way?” “ We don’t do cheese.” “You do. I ordered some about half an hour ago.” “Oh really?” “Yes, really.” You get the gist. Such a shame when considering the quality of the food which was finally delivered. Beef and tomato sausages, rib eye steak and the salmon fillet were all expertly executed and an enjoyable feed. The mange tout even evoked childhood memories of eating peas from the vegetable garden. They were great. However, warm beer and white wine delivered sans cooler set the tone for the evening really. You should have an inkling something is afoot if the basics are ignored. The kitchen staff (although perfectly capable) were woefully under worked, which I am sure was a result of no orders being taken at tables. As a waitress you should adhere to the maxim that ‘being ditzy does not constitute cuteness’ – which in turn does not constitute service. If you are going to go (and I can’t think of a reason I would willingly go twice); go for the food. Just be prepared to fight (and wait) for it. Nickademus and Pliers