271 Not even for ready money…

It being our wedding anniversary – since you ask, thirty five years – well, quite: not even time off for good behaviour – anyway, in view of the day, we’d decided to use the voucher for afternoon tea given to me on my last birthday by our lovely friends, the Vestibules.

We’d booked to have the tea in one of the London hotels with a view to then doing something afterwards; a play or whatever.  The hotel was on the edge of Hyde Park and the menu outside promised tea with sandwiches, cakes and ‘warm home-made scones’.

The waitress quickly finds the booking: “here we are, one vegetarian and one normal.”  We are seated and choose our tea.  We are brought a selection of sandwiches – both vegetarian and normal – neatly de-crusted and fit for Lady Bracknell.  We are brought a selection of cakes.  We are brought a pot of jam and another of clotted cream.  We are not brought scones.  We catch the waitress’s eye.

“Excuse me – we don’t seem to have any scones?”

“The delivery didn’t arrive,” the waitress tells us.  “We’ve tried the local shops but no-one has any.  Would you like some prosecco?”

Which leaves me with a dilemma: what do you think?  On a glass of prosecco, would you say jam or cream first?

(Btw, still had a good tea and ended up seeing ‘The Moderate Soprano” with one of my favouritest actors, Roger Allam, so I was a very happy bunny.)


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