Went in a cafe of the wrong class today. [sad face]

[TiggyD]

There were 2 cafes near each other. I picked the wrong one. I'm lower middle class and the cafe was for middle middle class to about lower upper class. I should have guessed by the little accent they put over the 'e' in the name.

I went in and up to the counter and asked for a sausage roll and a hot chocolate and they didn't give it to me. I was told to go sit at a table. My sausage roll came served on a plate with salad which, and you might not believe this, somebody had drizzled on! I'm guessing it was basil oil or some such frippery, although the cafe with an accent was next to a boating lake the same colour.

I should have gone to the other one where I'm sure I could have just taken the sausage roll in a bag or on a paper plate without being drizzled at.

It's hard being English.

Our Gregg's has stopped selling pies!! What is that about? It's a pie shop isn't it?!

Mary Janes. Painted in red. With gypsy caravan style decoration. They were as shit as they sound, and with my hodge podge clothes, NHS glasses and hair thatb looked like it could fry a spam fritter, earned me the nickname JumbleSale. Cheers dad!

I personally like a bit of coffee mate in instant coffee. LeavezsLeavezs a nice coating on thebroof of your mouth. But then I also like hot, frothed soya milk in a proper cup of coffee. I'm a mess!

Oh hazey that is so bad. I bet your footwear and clothing are very different now?
(Reminds self to call and apologise to Mum for moaning on and on about her insistence on Russell and Bromley)

There are gradations and boundaries to earing out that are changing all the time and impossible to navigate......last year we unwittingly stopped off in Burnham Market after a trip to the beach. We tried to enter what looked like a Mediterranean cafe, only to find ourselves bounced back by an invisible force field of disapproval as all conversation stopped and the entirely Breton top wearing clientele gazed at us from behind their sunglasses. I reversed nervously through the door with a child in each hand and back to the car for a quick getaway. I later found it sold food entirely from its own Italian estate, flown in daily. DD was wearing small amount of Mini-Boden that day but it offered no protection whatsoever. I think I may complain to Johnnie.

eating out (sorry!)

I thought I was relatively at home in my nice-ish but not too nice ordinary town.

Then I went out for breakfast on Friday to my usual cafe in the local garden centre. I like to think the middle class ness of the garden centre will be offset by the fry up in the cafe.

It came with smashed avocado. It's like I don't know myself any more

I was once served tea with Carnation milk by a new boyfriend. I almost dumped him but he was from Ghana so I put it down to "culture" and gave him the benefit of the doubt.

I don't think it's cultural - my nana used to serve tea with carnation milk and she was from Cardiff. Mind you she did have a dalliance with a man from Guyana that resulted in DF so maybe this was another type of cultural exchange.

Vets

I am in some rather piss poor botanical gardens and there is NO cafe, with an accent or without. I don't care if it serves Hibiscus tea using filtered water from Fiji or just plain old Builder's Tar - I just want a cup of tea!!!!!

That's just so wrong, vanilla, I feel your pain.

" I was once served tea with Carnation milk by a new boyfriend. I almost dumped him "

tea with Carnation milk is awesome! I would have married him.

BOOP - garden centre? You can't trust them, especially in the 4 months before xmas. They have no idea any more what or who they are for. You need to find a nursery.

What is the status of a greasy-spoon-looking cafe that serves CHIPS with their fried breakfast?

Other indications include pictures of food and the coloured cardboard stars.

Chips with a fry up is obligatory.

Wimpy v Little Chef?? Little Chef wins hands down for me.

I can join in! I'm in New York and today in Greenwich which was knee deep in hairy faced hipsters DH, DS (Leaders in their field in despising all leafed foodstuff) and I were served drizzled watercress with eggs, bacon and home fries.

The sat dumbfounded, while I said "blimey wait til Mumnet hear this" and summonsed a spare plate to evict the offending vegetation. The waitress seemed unsurprised and I clocked the same on every table until we left.

I'd like to toss Happy Eater into the mix.

Which branding executive thought it a good idea to have the logo of a chap thrusting his fingers down his gullet as a tempting invitation to come in and sample the fare on offer?

I did darken the portals of a Happy Puker once - it was out of sheer desperation somewhere on the A31. The place was deserted; one rather folorn member of staff in a jaunty red apron and baseball cap was pushing an extra wide broom around between the tables.

We've run out of evryfink he announced but I can do you some bread an' butter.

I was able to resist this sincere proposal; I had a feeling that hand washing might not occur. Onwards to Bere Regis, where a Ginsters Cardboard Slice filled the gastric void.

It is testament to the British motoring public that chains such as these were allowed to flourish. My children thought it some sort of treat to stop at a Shitty Elf, gawd knows why.

How one existed before the arrival of Waitrose at service stations I cannot think.

Happy Eaters were the height of modern sophistication in my youth. I remember the absolute treat of stopping at one once where it was colder inside than it was outside, and it was snowing outside. We didn't care - we were in a Happy Eater.

Toast - you've learned what Burnham Market is like the hard way. There are so many rules in Burnham Market it's almost like there are no rules; whatever you do, however you look, whatever food you wish to purchase - it'll be unacceptable.

Hassled - despite my tirade above, I did once have a giant sausage in a hoagie with wholegrain mustard at a Happy Eater.

It was bloody lovely. I've never admitted that in public before.

I know with certainty that I would be rebuffed from every establishment n Burnham Market. I look well shit in Breton and I used to think that the curly sausage in Wimpy was the mutts re sophisticated dining as a child.

tea with Carnation milk is awesome! I would have married him. different strokes and all that......

He had many other talents that in hindsight were marriage material. Maybe not the leather trousers though!

Talc

I'm glad we're not the only ones who called them Happy Pukers!

Am in landlocked Forrin and have had a yearning for the Norfolk coast for a while.

Highlight of my year so far was therefore going to Wells-Next-The-Sea during half term. Greatly enjoyed the town & village names. FidGirl did a work placement in a town a way away from here last school year and when texting her to make sure she got there OK I dropped in the breaking news from BBC East via satellite that the road from Fakenham to Little Snoring was blocked.

Became a habit for the 2 weeks. She & I were thrilled to drive through Great Witchingham and my brother thought us loopy to insist on a detour to Great and Little Snoring. Just reading the map was sigh-inducing pleasure.

If I'd had a sausage roll or pork pie that day I may well have expired through happiness.