Lunch at The Bull
I have blogged before about this dining pub in Dorset, a real gem, hidden away in the countryside. A return visit confirmed what I felt about the place before: that it is an excellent pub with food.... The day did not begin well: intent on an early morning walk on the beach to work up an appetite for lunch, I left the house and went to the car, only to be confronted by a huge, freshly-laid dog turd. Making a mental note to instruct father-in-law to clear it up ASAP, I got in the car, turned the key - and nothing. Nada. Niente. The alarm chirrupped, the lights came on and off, but the engine: dead. This is the peril of having a very sophisticated all-singing all-dancing car with a multitude of electronic gizmos and gadgets. It has happened to me once before, and not that long ago, at the Eurotunnel terminal in Calais on my way back from France at Christmas. It was embarrassing to be stranded, not least because I was queueing in the priority boarding lane. A Basil Fawlty-ish scenario