So we had a gig out in Mighty Horncastle - the most incredible middle of nowhere in England. We were meant to play a festival in Skegness which got scaled down to a long night in Horncastle. We arrived at 7 to unload..found out we were playing at midnight.
What does one do in Horncastle to kill 5 hours? Well, go for dinner like a bunch of Lords.
Upon dismissing the Curry House, 3 pubs and the Chinese we settle on an old school looking restaurant boasting locally sourced produce and a nice price to match.
It was'nt a huge place, as we entered a party of around 6 were seated and served their meal. We waited in the lounge area and ordered our drinks..and waited..and waited..and listened to the numbing Elbow album as it looped endlessly on the in house speakers. We were handed menus, ordered and waited.
An hour passes and we're seated and served a meal which merits comparisons to day old hospital food, prison rations, food prepared by the dead for the dead. We were the only other people in the place and the food took over an hour to limp to our table, as dead and flavorless as the Elbow album we endured on loop 3 times over.
S.Y.F.(Stuff Your Face)
HHRRRUUUUUGGG
BLERG
Overcharge us? YOU WHAT
The Dump
It was poor. POOR I SAY.
Then the bill arrived. Trying to overcharge by £10. A wonderful cherry on top of a veritable metaphorical Ice Cream Sundae of joy and well prepared food.
Suffice to say - we did NOT tip, not one penny.
The gig went well, after all that fanny-ing around. I got to play on a huge Iron Maiden style drum kit with 100000 toms, which gave Houses on The Hill chance to grow into the true modern challenger to Run to the Hills' glory.
Got to bed around 4am. Bring it on.
No comments:
Post a Comment