Felbridge

From Ditchling, we headed north to the Felbridge Crown Plaza to position ourselves for the next day's heritage operations.

Crowne Plaza

Which turned out to be an essentially new building, shed disguised as cottage, after the fashion of a Sainsbury's or a Homebase, with what looked like some old remnants around the side. They certainly involved some old materials, and I thought that there were indeed some old remnants. The new starts at the far right of the snap above, swinging around and away to the left. While the inside was entirely smart and new, as was our room, including a smart new television which could do ITV3 and did come in a wooden frame, an up-to-date version of the fancy frame they do in the bar at our Wetherspoon's back at Epsom.

The telly

The only complaint was that while there was a substantial bath, one could not work the bath taps with one's feet while lying down, you had to more or less get up. And just to be different the water came out of what in other baths would have been the overflow.

Furthermore, by the time we arrived at around 1730, the restaurant was fully booked until 2000, far too late for us, so we decamped to the Chef & Brewer across the road, the first time we have been in such a place for a while. Premier Inn behind, making a useful pairing, probably all under the Whitbread umbrella, the people who once rebranded lots of perfectly decent regional bitters as Trophy. Don't know if they still brew. And just to be on the safe side we had booked, from my telephone no less, which turned out to be unnecessary.

Shown to a very small table for two, we suggested that perhaps we might have a bigger table. No problem. But then the problems started.

Two kinds of soup, one slightly slopped. Mine described as lentil but actually more like what I remember as Heinz tinned oxtail. Nothing to do with any oxtail that I have ever come across, but thick, red and spicy. Soft cubes of vegetable matter. Almost certainly out of a catering sized tin or a boil in the bag portion. Eatable, but not good. Bread, ditto.

I then went for fish and chips, while BH went for a green salad topped with salmon. This last being the latest and greatest item on the menu. Plus water, plus a 2017 Petit Chablis.

First up was a bottle of Veuve Cliquot champagne, perfectly decent stuff, twice the price of what I had ordered. And the fresh young waitress had opened the thing up before checking. But I am not that keen on champagne, it was in the right position on the wrong page of the wine list, and so held out for the Chablis. Which eventually turned up, cork still in the bottle, and a little time after that the water.

One theory was that the staff would neck the champagne in the course of the evening, another was that they could dish it out to customers as fizzy by the glass, somewhere else on the menu. Either way, it would have to go. Don't think that the corks go back in.

As it happened, we rather liked the Chablis. Served as we like it, without ice or bucket.

Then my fish and chips turned up, much like one would get in Wetherspoon's, perhaps not quite so smart and fresh but generous with the peas, and then the BH salad, less the salmon. Some palaver with the fresh young waitress about whether the salmon had actually been ordered or not. Some more palaver with a more experienced (and more bouncy) waitress, after which the salad was carried off to have the salmon added.

Then the salmon turned up, nearly raw. Declined. Start again with the salmon, which turned up and was fine, but by then our meal had been rather disrupted.

Small slice of something very chocolaty for dessert, more chocolate that the description tart would suggest. Essentially a chocolate paste about a centimetre thick and sat on a thin, edible vegetable matting; not too bad in the small amount offered. Laid off the spirits that warm on the grounds of an upcoming warfarin test - which I managed to fail anyway. Otherwise, more or less on an even keel again.

Asked fresh young waitress for the bill. Who forgot about it.

Asked her for it again. It turned up and I paid. After which I noticed that I had paid for champagne rather than Chablis. Which was not going to do. But restitution required manager action, and to be fair to the manager, he knew exactly how to deal with this sort of thing. How to pour the necessary oil on troubled waters, how to keep both customers in the loop. And we settled for him giving me another bottle of Chablis, which made up the numbers and avoided having to unwind posted transactions. I dare say that if the warfarin had not been looming, I might have wangled a few shots of something extra to round things out a bit.

All rather a pity. The ambience was fine, with plenty of old beams and such like bought in to bring the décor upto scratch. Not busy, but enough people to provide a bit of life. Certain amount of mutton dressed as lamb. Certain amount of lamb. The offering was fine for the money, badly let down on this occasion by inexperienced or incompetent front of house staff. The first time for a while that I have not tipped, generally being quite generous in that department.

PS: we learned later that Halfords, for example, have tills on which it is not difficult to unwind transactions which have gone wrong. One has to summon a manager, but the actual process is not difficult.

Reference 1: http://psmv3.blogspot.com/2018/08/ditchling.html.

Reference 2: http://www.chablis-michaut.fr/index_en.php. From which we learned that I had paid more than double what I could buy it online for. About what one expects in a restaurant for lower end wine.