- but before I tell you, I'd like to mention the important subject of Afternoon Tea which is v. good at The Midland Hotel in Morecambe, and which I ate yesterday. Look, I'll prove it:
Whilst one is deciding which cake to eat first, the sky and sea meld in a blue-grey sweep of bay, shimmering beyond the plate glass windows of the sun terrace. Eric Gill designed a glorious medallion for the hotel's entrance. I was entranced.
Earlier, my companion and I (hem, hem - note how effortlessly I slipped into restaurant criticese - Giles Coren, watch your back) had been lost in a second-hand book shop with a stuffed goose, and had met the chap who tracked down the Carnforth Station clock to a garden shed in Hammersmith. It has a tick - no, more of a thud - like a steady heartbeat as the nails that weight it fall when the pendulum swings. (The clock, you fool, not the garden shed.) We also met the horologist who had revived the clock after its shed sojourn, and a characterful buffet barman. You will agree that our afternoon tea had been well earned.
Tea at The Midland is the title of a prize-winning short story by David Constantine. You can listen to a little of it here. Though I'm not sure I believe that the vast plate glass windows shook; they looked far too steadfast.
As local bowling champion, Tinker Pulford, will attest, in the North people talk - whether one wants them to or not. I am glad. Silent types would never have encouraged us to stand under a vast Victorian clock listening for a heartbeat.
But that's enough of yesterday. Today I shall be mostly eating ...
Breakfast: carrot juice with fresh ginger
Lunch: carrot and orange soup.
Afternoon tea: carrot cake
Dinner: carrot loaf with carrot purée, carrot julienne and carrot salad.
Supper: boiled carrots.
The eagle-eyed amongst you will spot a theme. It could be worse. Eric Gill did dreadful things to his dog. I am merely planning to do dreadful things to the characterful buffet barman.
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