Gertsamtkunstwerk

The Wandle, after The Storm

What a miserable winter 2013/14 was. I am immensely grateful, living on a hill and inland, I was not affected by floods how many people were. Even so, the seemingly constant heavy rain and strong winds was not conducive to going out. I've blogged about a New Year walk around The City, and a fortuitous stroll along Bournemouth seafront, but other than 2 or 3 pleasant but uneventful walks on Tooting Common, and one to Brockwell Park, these are my only 'going out' since returning from holiday in September.

I took time off sick in February and March. It retrospect it might have been easier to take a full week, rather than a day here, a couple of days there. Something dawned on me in late March - how good I had felt walking through Central Croydon after a work-related meeting, and a similar work-related jaunt to leafy outer suburbs. Both days were bright sunshiny days. One was pretty cold - scarves and gloves - but that mattered less than the brightness of the sun. In short, I am fairly certain I have Seaonally Affective Disorder. I don't want to be pseudo-scientific, and I'm very aware of the power of suggestion, but I have felt so much better since the Spring Equinox.

The odd trip out, in glorious pre-Spring weather, only served to mask the reality of Seasonal Affective Disorder. I've ignored it for too long. I've treated it like hayfever or migraines, afflictions that make me lose several hours every couple of years, but not comparable to people whose lives are devastated by them. Everyone feels a bit down in winter. It's not that I'm depressred, just de-energised, lack-lustre, indifferent, apathetic. And yet, that isn't me in sunshine. I walked three miles, which is nothing really (although three miles of pootling and stopping to admire the view surely requires more energy than yomping across country). I was tired in the evening, and had to leave a birthday party early, but it felt a lot more positive than the world-weariness I had felt for months.

The Wandle never ceases to amaze. I could walk its banks for ever and always see something new. Early on, we detoured into the wheelhouse at Merton Abbey Mills and saw behind the water wheel.

Along the river were scenes of devastation:

     

The sandbags were out by the flats in Ravensbury Park - thankfully, looking unneeded. What a great place they must be to live. Whenever I go past there are always people out enjoying their amazing back gardens, and the kids obviously love living in the woods - even when a kicked football falls dead in a squelchy hidden puddle!

 

Talking of squelchy, the Wetlands were pleasingly wet. According to Wikipedia: 

A wetland is a land area that is saturated with water, either permanently or seasonally, such that it takes on the characteristics of a distinct ecosystem...wetlands consist primarily of hydric soil, which supports aquatic plants.

During the winter, some attention-seeking MP was condemning money spent by the Environment Agency on creating a wetlands in his - admittedly subaquatic - constituency. I sighed big sighs - if the water doesn't go into wetlands, it has to go somewhere else.

 

I got told off by a rather bossy dog woman for wearing the wrong shoes. I was stunned into silence until she had gone. She wore Wellingtons, which are right for her, but they give inadequate support and cushioning for me. It wasn't like I was wearing sandals or PE pumps. I was wearing proper genuine walking boots, Gore-Tex from an outdoors shop. They did me just fine. Yes, they're suede, but I can't help being innately stylish. I pass judgement about people's footwear all the time - in my head. They're adults, they'll cop onto themselves one day, and it's none of my flipping business. It's uncouth to criticise strangers whose behaviour is not affecting oneself. Rude dog woman. 

 

The walk through the Wetlands goes into Morden Hall Park;  several attempts to take iconic bridge photos.

  

Stroll across to the Snuff Mill.

 
I tried a few photoly effects. Not sure what to conclude:

  

It was great to see many people out in the park, but sad not to see those those not enjoying the welcome and overdue sunlight. Part of me thinks that everybody should spend more time in our great parks, but another part of me thinks, no, we don't want the stunningly secret Morden Hall Park to be over-run by people! If you've never been, you could do worse than follow Morden Hall Park walk. Indeed, there are things in that I've never seen.

Great, too, to see early signs of Spring. I feel guilty for writing that. Last year, Spring arrived late, and all the better for it - bumper crops and so on. But I so wanted the gloom of winter to be over.

I took many poor quality shots of wildfowl, including herons, but I have more than enough mediocre photos of wildfowl. Time to say, enough is enough.

Normally in Morden Hall Park we walk (or cycle) down the grand drive next to the Hay Meadow, but this time we took the riverside route, through the arboretum...squelch squelch! It was so quiet, we only passed one other couple. We sat on a bench to watch the world go by but nothing did.

 

except some geese, and a heron taking flight

 

Not even much traffic on Morden Road

 Into Ravensbury Park where the millstream flowed in full force.

 

Several rubbish attempts to photograph waterfowl. Maybe I should get a DSLR with a Zoom lens. One more thing to carry around, and lose. Or I'd be daunted by using it so my photography would dwindle and cease. I was quite pleased with these, anyway

Just before we saw the swan we had noticed a couple of women in their mid twenties. We both thought they were probably Irish Travellers. One was careering along the footpath on a child's scooter (although I've subsequently seen rather too many adults on such a scooter). The other was taking an enormous St Bernard for a walk. We met at the swan, there was also a Polish mother and toddler. Our attention was drawn by the swan. The St Bernard stood there, relaxing, keeping an eye on the swan, not getting excited or agitated. I have never seen a dog so disciplined and well-behaved in the presence of water fowl. Swan, St Bernard, Sunshine...can't beat that (sadly, the St Bernard was lacking brandy). If I ever had a dog it would be a St Bernard. And not for the brandy! I should have photoed the St Bernard, but I didn't, so here's a photo of the London Rd bridge

We had caught a bus and a Tube to get to the Wandle, now we were in for a new adventure - a Croydon tram. Amazingly, only my second ever ride on a Croydon tram, and Jimmy's first

 

Our journey ended on a standard train to Streatham Common, not a station we use much. And early dinner in the Railway. Not sure what to think. Very positive about their craft ales and ciders, but this is no way to serve tea.

I shouldn't have needed to ask for this. Granted, this wasn't in the tea room. Even so, it's not difficult - teabags don't go in teacups. If you're making it in the cup, the cup must be a mug. If you're serving it in a teacup, it should be brewed in a pot. The water was not boiling. Their ineptitude at making tea made me less well disposed. I was part of a mass exodus when several of us separately but together decided it's pointless being in a pub where you can't hear yourself think over a baby that wouldn't stop screaming. 

The squid for a starter was very nice.

and the Somerset brie, chargrilled courgettes & sun dried tomato chutney on brioche bun, hand cut chips, bloody Mary ketchup filled a spot. Foodwise I'd go back the next time I come off a train at Streatham Common starving hungry. But maybe the service and ambience would put me off. Too far to 'pop out' to, but not special enough to justify a special journey.

 

 

 

View Merton Abbey To Mitcham Tram in a larger map

Broadstairs, Wyatt and Jones

We stayed one night in Botany Bay. In the evening we went into Broadstairs to sample a well-reviewed modern British restaurant, Wyatt and Jones. Independent, family run, seasonal local produce. Also, I notice, our childrens menu consists of a selection of smaller portions from our adult menu. I know people who are frustrated because far too many 'restaurants' think children's food should be mechanically processed offcuts deep fried and served as finger food. So, although I have no direct interest, I will praise any restaurant which overtly states such a policy!

They open for breakfast and lunch (I've been told good things of their breakfasts) but they don't open all day - they close for three hours in the afternoon, presumably for staff lunch and rest and for dinner preparation.

Before settling down to eat I took a short stroll to the shore to capture the glory of the evening sun.

  

I started with a fish soup with scallops, prawns and mussels. Substantial, wholesome and tasty, although I'm not sure 'soup' is the right classification, but soup or stew it hit the spot. Good tasty fresh pieces of seafood and fish, and a sauce with robust flavours.

My main course was cod loin in garlic butter, creamed greens, fried potatoes, clams & asparagus veloute.

The sharp-eyed among you will have noticed I don't eat meat but I eat a lot of fish and seafood, especially when dining out - when I'm cooking for myself at home I like both big pulse-rich foods with lots of spice and also egg-and-cheese heavy dishes. But, possibly, my most favourite food group is sauce. And this is why I love Modern British food. Sauce, bringing the dish together. I have been in restaurants abroad - such as Spain -who have served up a lovely fresh piece of fish. but with no or few vegetables, and no sauce, the result is disappointing. (And I'm no fan of Nick Clegg, but his wife his Spanish, and he has made a similar complaint about Spanish food).

And this cod dish was an exemplar of great Modern British food. Ostensibly the cod was the star of the show, but the falvoursome veloute brought it together as a dish of balanced elements, each mouth ful a flavour sensation.

Furthermore, it was delightful to find this restaurant in Broadstairs. I fully admit to having misjudged the town, influenced perhaps by MArgate's reputation as a downmarket seaside town past its best (not entirely true). Nevertheless, it doesn't have a foodie reputation, and the town and area's marketing is driven by sandy beaches. I travelled for the bech and I found a restaurant that, although not 'cheffy' (or 'poncey' delivers good quality fine dining.

However, it turned out that the starter was far too generously portioned, and I didn't have room for pudding.

 

Related articles

The story of Afternoon Tea, part 1

Botany Bay

Wyatt & Jones..................

Round up of Bournemouth

Lovely mini-break in Bournemouth. A wonderful escape from the stresses of work and the stress known as 'Other People'. On the Friday we walked along the seafront to Boscombe A sunny February walk in Bournemouth and on both evenings we ate in our hotel Blake's Restaurant Bournemouth. On both days we had a light lunch in the local pub - the Goat and Tricycle, reputedly the best real ale pub in Bournemouth. Jimmy had a chat with the manager, who said how many barrels they turned over each week - and how many at Christmas. I forget the numbers now but Jimmy was seriously impressed. A good selection of ales and 'proper' ciders and a wide selection of food, from bar snacks to main meals. A good turnover of customers, too, and a reasonable social mix: local workmen, dog-walkers, retired or mini-breaking couples. I felt entirely comfortable there on a Thursday afternoon.

I had planned that we would spend all of Saturday in Bournemouth, perhaps even taking an early dinner before travelling back late, but the weather forecast was not good. Jimmy insisted we get away fairly early. I was disappointed, but I remembered how critical I am of people who travel unnecessarily, putting themselves and others at risk, in bad weather.

After breakfast on Saturday we walked to the clifftop, and down to the Undercliff Promenade to look at the brewing storm. It was lively out there, a contrast from the previous day's relative calm. and, yet, as pictures of the storm-battered winter of 2013/14 go, these are about the dullest you'll see! There was even someone on the beach with his small child, and they looked perfectly safe.

Nevertheless, there were signs of an impending storm and we decided to call it a day and head home. Ironically, our Railway Replacement bus service to Southampton Airport Parkway was a highlight - travelling through the New Forest in glorious sunshine. The train journey was uneventful. We changed at Woking and they were announcing (further) chaos on services to the West Country - this time, a landslip at Crewkerne. On Twitter I was reading various South Londoners caught in flash downpours. This was quite surreal, as we enjoyed surprisingly beautiful weather. Until we reached Streatham Hill, when the heavens opened, and we were soaked in the short walk - dash - from station to fishmongers.

In retrospect, we could have stayed all day in Bournemouth and still got home safely, but I think it was the right decision to make. There were still more storms to come - especially the Valentine's Day storm, which affected previous holiday destinations of Milford-on-Sea and West Bay, but I am rather relieved to have escaped this winter's exceptional storm without one dramatic photo to share with you.

Botany Bay

The famous Heatwave of 2014. A grey, rainy, cool Spring looked like there was no end. I got sick of people moaning "We've had no summer". I recounted the years when similar conditions had prevailed right up to the middle weekend - or even the quarter-finals - of Wimbledon and turned into two months of glorious summer. But no one paid me any attention!

The Heatwave broke out and we went to Battersea Park. The next two weekends involved day trips to Hove. They probably merit a blogpost, but on the first occasion I forgot to take my camera; on the second I forgot to take photos.

On the third weekend we booked an overnight stay near Broadstairs, on the recommendation of a colleague. Thanet is close enough to London, but, by train, a bit too far to do in a day and back. 

With the Heatwave holding and showing no sign of relenting, booking a seaside hotel wasn't easy. Most demanded a minimum of two nights stay, others were fully booked on the Saturday night, probably because of weddings. We settled on what was called the Fayreness Hotel, but has subsequently changed hands and is now called the Botany Bay hotel. At the time, I concluded it served our purpose well enough - decent breakfast and clean room, and extremely handy for the beach. And with the change of ownership, any further comment is irrelevant.

We caught the High Speed out of St Pancras, and on arrival in Broadstairs we walked own into town. I don't know what it is with seaside towns, but they all seem to have their stations well away from the town centre and the beach. We took a taxi to Kingsgate, although we could have caught a bus. We lunched while waiting for our room. I had a decent enough veggie burger, its presentation elegant if somewhat clichéd.

We spent the afternoon on the beach. For weeks before - and to come - Britain had basked in temperatures above the seasonal average. But not that day and not North East Kent. Officially, temperatures were struggling to get out of the teens.

The main beach was full of a 3-coach school party. From their diverse appearance I guess they had travelled from the London area. Well supervised and well behaved - they tidied their litter up into bin bags they left next to the bins - but there was a lot of them, probably Years 5 and 6. I felt a bit sad. Very few of the children went anywhere near the sea. A good few of them remained dressed in layers. The ones that did go near the sea were called back by the adults. (Damned if they do, damned if they don't. Not my idea of fun being responsible for other people's children in a potentially dangerous place. Dangerous especially because it seemed most of the children had no familiarity with beach and sea. And those that headed to the sea, presumably they were experienced, but could the teachers and helpers take that chance?)

We headed along the beach and past a rock that stuck out. That was fine for a while. But it began to feel very cold. It dawned on us we were now in shade, so we returned to the main beach and basked in the sun for another hour or so. There were plenty - but not too many - people on the beach, but no one was venturing in the sea beyond a hesitant paddle.

In the evening we ate in Broadstairs, and returned to our hotel for drinks. There wasn't much atmosphere in the hotel bar. We had tried taking a walk along the clifftops in front of the hotel, but bizarrely, we were swarmed by large hoverflies, which were quite scary. Perhaps not scary like wasps, but they kept flying at me, so my impulses - blinking, swatting, ducking - were in overdrive. I've never encountered anything like it.

 

We were on the beach mid morning and again walked along, to get away from what was obviously the main drag. It began to fill up with people, old people and young, couples, friend groups, families. We never felt overcrowded, knowing that if you want beach tranquility on a July Saturday in a heatwave you have to travel. 

 

One thing I concluded from this visit, and from my two daytrips to Hove is that there's no need to be on the beach early. I should have known this, but too many holidays in Southern Europe and beyond have caused me to forget England. It wasn't really that pleasant in the water at 11am; by 3pm it was gorgeous. So therapeutic. 

This stretch of coast is sandy; even so, I was glad to have brought beach shoes. We sat by some rocks that needed crossing to get to low water and were submerged at higher water. There is no feeling equal to that of floating in the sea on a day that - eventually - became very hot. I do regret that, having set our hearts on (a very fine) afternoon tea, we left the beach too early. We can have afternoon tea any time; sea swimming is a rarity in England - I haven't done it since (I had hoped to in Cornwall, given that the sea is at its warmest in September, but the air temperature rarely rose above 20C).

When we left the beach we had to return via the 'main' part. I gasped at how crowded it was. People's towels were almost touching the towels of their neighbours; there were perhaps a dozen rows of people. We had chosen a better part - but further to walk from the stairs and ramp. But perhaps I shouldn't have been surprised - a week or two earlier, I had seen pictures of 'Standing Room Only' at Brighton beach, such as this one, from Stephen Liddell's blog.

We returned into Broadstairs. The beaches were busy there, too. We wandered around for a while but it was too hot for wandering, so after a drink or two, we caught the High Speed home, avoiding the worst of the rush.

It was an enjoyable time away, but I made a mental note for the future - don't be the person who leaves the beach too early in the day. I'm sure it would have been great for swimming even at 6 or 7pm, and a hellish journey on an overcrowded train would not be the disaster one dreads!

 

Blake's Restaurant Bournemouth

We went to the Connaught a couple of years ago. The restaurant and leisure facilities were a high standard, and the room good enough, and it's situated close to the beach. We got a deal for out of-season/non-Saturday night, and splashed out on a sort of birthday treat.

There's a lot of good things about this hotel, but I'll get the criticisms out of the way first. Firstly, the rooms - they really are nothing special. No specific criticisms, and, indeed, as spotlessly clean as one would hope. But, to be frank, having stayed in a couple of Premier Inns recently, if I was choosing on the basis of room alone, I'd opt for a Premier Inn rather than this 4 star hotel. Premier Inn has better fittings and better bed coverings, the rooms are bigger, and, perhaps most importantly, have temperature/air-conditioning control in each room - in the Connaught, the room was just too warm for a truly comfortbale night's sleep.

The other criticism was having the one Michael Buble album on loop throughout our entire stay, through both breakfasts and dinners, and at all other times as we came and went in the communal areas. The time we stayed previously, it was a light classics album, more to my liking, but even so, if I never hear Maria Callas sing Casta Diva again, it will be too soon.

The staff are outstandingly good: warm and friendly without being intrusive, and with sufficient attention to detail without fawning. We had two good/very good meals at the restaurant, although to be honest there wasn't one dish - with the possible exception of the cheese board - that really had a wow factor.

Stupidly, I didn't make a note of what I had to eat and three months later, it's hard to remember precisely. I started with a non-meat Scotch egg, which was tasty, and I followed with a fillet of white fish, served with a variety of vegetables done in different ways. This was faultless and tasted perfect, although I keep looking at this photo and thinking - they've tried to do something with the presentation that didn't quite come off. No matter, it was appetising to the eye and cooked to perfection.

My birthday pudding was a rhubarb cheesecake. I must have been quite squiffy by this point because I didn't notice 'rhubarb' on the menu, just 'cheesecake'.

I hated rhubarb as a child, unfortunate, as it grew in the parental garden. It came back into fashion only just a few years ago and I decided to ignore my childhood hatred and try it again, with little luck. So, in a way, I was fortunate to make the mistake of ordering this rhubarb cheesecake. As you can see, it's presented elegantly, and all the non-rhubarb bits were adorable, but even though I ate the rhubarb, and it was possibly the nicest rhubarb I have ever eaten, it still wasn't for me. So, in future, I can be confident I don't like rhubarb, having been presented with a clearly delicious rhubabrb dish!

The following evening I started with the double baked cheese souffle, a wise choice, recommended by Jimmy who had had it the previous night. There's a risk that such a dish could be insipid, but this was packed with flavour and was just the right consistency. I'm afraid the photo doesn't do it justice, indeed I'm disappointed with the entire set. I'd like to say that the really rather good wine slipped down too easily - it did - but that's no excuse at Starter time! I think I over-estimated the ambient light.

My main course was pan fried salmon, with parmentier potatoes, shrimp and capers in brown butter, cauliflower florets and wilted shrimps. I had been tempted by the wild mushroom risotto. I do like risotto and I love wild mushrooms, so, obviously, it's a great dish. But it seems that currently, it's becoming a predictable choice for 'veggie option', so I thought I'd go for the salmon. A really good dish, with some classic traditional ingredients combined in an intelligent modern way. And, let's face it, when it comes to fish fillets, you really can't beat a good old pan-frying: ignore the health freaks - grilling's all very well, but nothing stimulates the succulent juices like pan frying.

Not too many years ago, I proclaimed that 'cheese boards' were dated and well out of fashion, and no restaurants actually serve them. What an ass I can be. Of course they're not, and of course they do! Nobody does cheese like the English, and 'the West country' probably rivals Lancashire/Cheshire/Shropshire for its quality of cheese.

The menu specifies 'up to 4 cheeses' but the lovely waiter gave me five of my own specification, from Dorset, Somerset and Cornwall. Yes, it probably wasn't wise after a cheese souffle starter, but, heck, that's what Lansoprazole is for. And port, obviously!

A couple more indifferent photos of good food.

 

If we return to Bournemouth - perhaps if we get a heatwave - we might stay in the Travelodge a few yards away, and eat in Blake's again.

Battersea Park boating

I created this post almost two months ago, in order to post photos and write about a trip to Battersea Park last summer. But, on reflection, there's not a great deal to say. 

It was a hot day in June and summer had barely begun. We didn't know it, but this was the start of an extended period of gloriously hot summer weather. 

We caught the bus down to Battersea Park. We intended to go boating, but worried that everybody else would have the same idea, and the queue would be a mile long. And, indeed, there was a queue. I suggested we joined it, and after ten minutes we would be able to gauge the length of the wait. After ten minutes, we were taking possession of a rowing boat - the wait was longer for pedalos, but we wanted to row.

We spent an hour rowing. We don't do it very often, and my partner cannot grasp that I am better at it than him. Even though I always explain "I used to row at University".

I know you have visions of me, in an eight, up at dawn to train on the River Trent. That's not precisely what I mean, even though my old University has a decent reputation for rowing - in fact, I don't think you can call yourself a Nottingham graduate unless you did some rowing at Uni...on the boating lake.

Battersea Park is a lot smaller than Highfields in Nottingham and a lot of it is roped off. Sharing the water with so many other users, as well as myriad water fowl, means more time is spent steering round obstacles than actually opening up and rowing straight. Perhaps inevitably there's always one party who seem to think that there's only them on the lake and everyone must make way for them.

I was rather touched to see a young woman in a hijab with two young boys in a rowing boat. She was floundering, not having grasped that you have to sit backwards in the boat.

I explained to her that you have to use the oars to push the water backwards so that the boat can move into the space - and use the small boys as lookouts. It would have been easy to mock her ineptitude but I admire her for venturing outside her comfort zone and bringing a great new experience to her sons. I hope they found the hidden treasure.

Boating in a municipal park is a nice way to spend an hour every so often, and it's not difficult once you get the hang of it.

Thoughts on Trip Advisor

A few weeks ago I read a sneery comment about people who 'plan their holiday on Trip Advisor' and it's annoyed me ever since. I don't suppose the writer literally meant that people go to Trip Advisor and blindly select a holiday just because it's got a certain number of stars.

On the other hand, as part of planning a holiday or break, it's useful to consult reference sources, to find out, for example, what restaurants exist in the area, if any, and which seem to have a general consensus of positive reviews from multiple reviewers. Yes, perhaps it would be easier to wander a strange town on spec. I've done that in the past, and have been turned away at fully-booked places, or discovered the only eating places open are chains pushing processed rubbish.

Of course, many of the positive reviews from Trip Advisor are form people with no discernment and the negative reviews from people with a particular axe-to-grind. But if a place has dozens of reviews and the consensus is high, or if there is one informative review that lights a spark, given that you're in a strange town, and you want a restaurant, and this is a restaurant, in that strange town, it's not a bad reference source. In the past I have stayed in a couple of very dodgy hotels that I would surely have avoided if TripAdvisor had existed. And since I've started consulting Trip Advisor, I've not really found anywhere that is radically different from the consensus of reviews.

I do wonder a little bit about the mentality of some people who leave reviews. I went somewhere recently, and was amused by a review that said "Every time we visit England, we have Afternoon Tea here and it is unsurpassable". A philosophical conundrum - how do they know it's best, if they haven't tried the rest! I had afternoon tea there and it was decent. It was good value for money, at, arguably, half the price of some other places I have tried, but even as a satisfied customer I really couldn't call it unsurpassable.

There's a restaurant I've eaten in on two mini-breaks, and I checked out the poor reviews. The worst included this:

At NO time did anyone of the waiting staff ask what the food was like which is standard in all restaurents I thought,

The Managing Director answered politely. My reaction would be to take such people out and shoot them. It's a two rosette restaurant. The waiting staff are trained to be alert to a raised hand, or a frowned attempt to catch their eye.

Good restaurants know that people want to enjoy their food and maintain lively conversation without some untrained halfwit mechanically asking "Everything ok you guys?". The only think worse than a moronic robot interrupting your eating pleasure with "Everything ok you guys" is three mornic robots in one course asking "Everything ok you guys?". 

Another poor review for the same restaurant includes 

The place was full of very old people, most of who seemed like walking dead.

to which the MD replied

This review is hugely offensive and disrespectful to a particular section of our society and warrants no further comment.

A reply that should be applauded in itself.

In another location, I almost booked a restaurant on the strength of this terrible review alone:

The restaurant had a power failure and the place was left in darkness, small candles were provided for the tables and toilets.

We had to choose dishes they said they could prepare so we gave them a chance as many other customers had decided to leave (just trying to support local businesses.

After one hour (9pm) the starters arrived with still no power.

at 10.30pm the main courses arrived and the food was barley edible in parts.

We called the manager to express our disapointment that the lovely chunky home made chips were in fact thin frozen chips covered in oil (disgusting)
The fillet steak my wife had was in fact three small thinly sliced frying steaks although he insisted that it was a fillet and that was how the chef prepared them.( i think i know a fillet from a minute steak)

This was pointed out to the manager and his reply was "the chef was doing the best he could ", (not the right answer, i told him that if the food was going to be sub standard then they should not be trying to serve it up.)

He said i had an attitude with him and stormed off .

I felt so sorry for the manager who replied to this - in short, they were trying to operate a restaurant during a long unannounced power cut that affected the whole street.

In short, I would never 'plan a holiday using Trip Advisor' but when I'm planning a holiday or break I use Trip Advisor as one of many reference sources. And by doing so, have found some outstanding restaurants and gleaned a few tips eg "book even numbered rooms in this hotel in order not to be disturbed by the heavy traffic for the early morning ferry". 

Related articles

20 ridiculous TripAdvisor reviews